Just Like Magic: The Twilight Twenty Five
by Mandi1
Summary: A collection of Alice-and-Jasper-centric stories. 25 responses to 25 prompts. The Twilight Twenty Five.
1. Heart

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Heart**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing:** Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

**_heart_** (n): the chambered muscular organ in vertebrates that pumps blood received from the veins into the arteries; the vital center and source of one's being, emotions, and sensibilities.

* * *

The first moment he saw it, he had known it was perfect for her. A ruby heart surrounded by small diamonds, white twinkling against the red, all strung on a thin silver chain. The pendant wasn't too small, but it wasn't too big either. It had been in the front window of Friedberg Jewelers in Boston, lying on a white display the same color as Alice's pale skin. It had been simple but lovely. And while she was not in the least simple, she was the loveliest thing he had ever seen, and he knew in an instant he had to have it for her.

He had been putting her through so very much then, what with making accommodations to their new lifestyle, their constant traveling, his occasional slipups, his desires for her battling against his desire to treat her like the goddess she was. They had gone through so much already in such a short period of time; he wanted the gift to be all at once a Christmas present, a thank you, and perhaps a lead-in to those three words he felt sitting on his tongue each time he looked at Alice. Those three words he hoped beyond hope that she would reciprocate.

Did she love him? He was certain he loved her, certain she was fond of him. She wouldn't have stuck with him through all their troubles if she wasn't. And surely her visions would not have brought them together if he wasn't supposed to have some sort of lasting effect in her life. And if that lasting effect was only temporary, if he would only come in and out of her life, she would still have this necklace. In some way, she would still have him.

And so he took the small amount of money he had in the account he and Peter had started the year after they left Texas, pocketed it, and ventured to the Jewelers' on a day Alice was busied by Charlotte (something Jasper had carefully arranged, though he was fairly sure she knew what he was up to). The aromas that assaulted his nose as soon as he stepped outside of the brownstone onto the streets of Boston were almost too much to bear, and he nearly went back inside…but then an image popped into his mind unbidden, just as certain as if he had Alice's gift: the pretty, dark-haired girl wearing the necklace he would buy her, her red mouth moving to phrase the words he so longed to hear. His feet were moving before he even realized what had happened.

The sight of old age was something that continually disturbed him. It was a state Jasper would never reach, something he couldn't understand, something that made him think of the life he had left behind so long ago…as well as the many lives that he had taken, halting their human existence just as his had been so stopped. And when the jeweler that was summoned to help him was a wizened old man, his skin half-hanging from brittle bones, what little snow-white hair he had left mostly concentrated in his ears and nostrils, for the first time, Jasper was pleased to see a senior citizen before him. As much as he detested the frailty of the elderly, it also brought with it a nearly unappetizing aroma. His scent was easy to ignore, and both men would be safe during their transaction.

The withered man ambled over towards him, smiling to reveal yellowed teeth. "May I help you, young man?" he croaked genially. Jasper cracked a smile at the salutation; young was certainly not something he was used to being called.

"Yes," he replied, nodding his head over to the display window. "I'd like to see that necklace. The ruby."

The man smiled even wider; there was a gap in his molars where a tooth should be. "Yes, sir, right away." He scurried off, faster than an old man usually would, and returned a moment later with the white velvet pillow that had been in the window. The necklace was laid on top, shining like a droplet of blood on a string of silver, even more beautiful than it had been through the glass.

"1.75 carats before setting," the man said as he fixed a magnifying loupe to his eye, squinting down to hold it in place. "Near-perfect cut. Take a look." He held the magnifier out, and Jasper held it to his eye, though he could easily see the imperfections unnoticeable to the human eye. It was perfect. Worthy of being worn by her.

"Is it to your satisfaction, sir?" The man was leaning forward excitedly, and Jasper could feel the thrums of anticipation at the sale going through him.

He nodded, willing his smile to stay hidden. "Yes, I do believe so."

"Well then…this would be the asking price." He scribbled a figure on a piece of paper and slid it across the countertop towards Jasper. The number written on it was a borderline outrageous amount…but it was worth it. For her.

He kept the necklace on his person for the next few days, worried that somehow Alice might find it. He tried to think of other presents he might buy her, hoping to deter those damn visions and keep his gift a secret. And she hadn't said a single thing to him about gifts, only smiled that smile one afternoon she had gone shopping. She had bought him a gift – what if his didn't measure up? What if she thought it silly? Or extravagant? Or didn't like it?

But then, just before they went to exchange gifts, she confessed that she _had_ seen it. That she had seen it even before he had purchased it. His heart dropped disappointedly…until she said that, even in her visions, it had been beautiful. Later, after he had opened the gift she had given him – a beautiful pocket-watch engraved with a message he would never forget – he took her from the room, wanting to see her face in a stronger light than fire when she opened her present…and perhaps work up the courage to admit to her what he had been feeling for quite some time.

Alice was lovely in the red satin dress she had purchased specifically for the holiday, and the moonlight coming through the opened curtains of the librarymade her skin glow in an ethereal way the sun could not, as if she had taken all the milky beauty from the night sky's orb and let it settle into her. She was smiling with anticipation, her eyes dancing, her body obviously ready to burst with eager excitement.

Well, you already know what it is, but…here," he said softly, trying not to be disappointed that she had guessed his secret and praying his gift might match up to the cleverness and thought that had gone into that watch.

Jasper watched, just as eagerly anticipating, as she worked the box open and revealed the ruby heart pendant sitting inside. He waited a moment…then two…then felt such surprise and happiness flooding his body – feelings that weren't his own. She loved it. She truly loved it. A gift _he_ had gotten her. And she was not only pleased with it, but _surprised_! Her face was aglow with a grin as he plucked the necklace from its box, clasping it around her pale, swanlike neck.

Alice turned back around to face him, her eyes bright as she touched the ruby against her sternum. "It's more beautiful than I imagined."

He smiled too…but it faltered as a small ebb of worry eased into her body.

She bit her lip, glancing down at the pendant, then looked up into his eyes. "How did you…?"

So _that_ was it. He hadn't stolen it, nor had it come by any unsavory means. "You're not the only one with money in the bank, Alice," he said, giving a smile. He was proud to be a provider for her, especially when she so often was the one spoiling him. Yet her confusion refused to dissipate, and he clarified. "I've had some money growing in an account for the past three years. It isn't a lot…and it was mostly given to me by Peter and Charlotte, so I'm not sure it was well come by, but it's something to live on. And if it allows me to get you nice things, then I'm not going to argue."

It was a staunch argument, a manly one, and he hoped she wouldn't see his knees shaking nervously as he spoke – or that if she did, she might let him have his pride.

But the corners of her lips curved up into a little smile, and she ran her fingertips over the chain as she murmured, "And it _is_ very nice."

His smile was a mile wide as he sat on one of the library's desks, pulling her close to him with her arms around her waist. "You like it. I'm glad."

She grinned and brushed her hand against his cheek. "It's almost as if I'm wearing your heart, still as it is."

His heart. He felt his happy expression sliding away, a motion he could not control. A slight feeling of nervous dread took the place, making his hands nearly tremble against her hips. Alice looked nervous too, and he could feel the concern that he was so upset coming from her like water.

This was it. This was the moment to tell her. Tell her everything. Throw himself out upon her mercies and pray she would allow him to stay there. Forever. Jasper took a deep breath and looked up into her eyes – seeing nothing there but kindness, caring concern, and what he prayed would be the return of his emotions.

"Alice, I gave you this because…you have already captured my heart. It may be still, but it _is_ there. And it belongs to you entirely."

She froze in his arms. Not a word, not a sound, not a breath issued from her, and when the clock struck midnight, he was sure this would be just like the fairy tale. His princess would run away, and he would never see her again.

"Did I scare you off then?" he tried to joke, knowing there was absolutely no humor in his voice, just fear that he might truly lose her.

She looked into his eyes – serious, quiet…happy…and shook her head. "As if you could ever get rid of me."

And she kissed him then, pressing her lips against his, and he was ecstatic to know that in this kiss, their first _true_ kiss, were all the feelings he had been keeping bottled inside now newly reciprocated. They were together, in _love_, and would be always. He held tightly to her, his forehead against hers, as if being apart would cause the end of both of their worlds…now the world they shared together.

"I…"

Alice's voice was slow and halting, and her body was as uncertain and hesitant as her tone. His eyes met hers – burgundy against gold – and somehow, within the depths of his soul that belonged only to her, he knew. And he smiled and he held her tight and he said what he had been dying to say.

"I love you, too."


	2. Aesthetic

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Aesthetic**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**aesthetic**_ (adj.): of or concerning the appreciation of beauty or good taste; characterized by a heightened sensitivity to beauty.

* * *

"We were _almost_ late," Alice muttered, just a trifle irritated as they edged their way into the packed atrium of the museum.

"But we weren't," Jasper replied, making sure the dark glasses she had given him were sitting snugly against his face. "Besides, wouldn't you have seen it if we had been?"

She rolled her eyes but grinned. "Oh, hush."

He grinned too and stifled a laugh as she turned to crane her neck, trying to see above the much taller people around her. Standing barely four-foot-ten, Alice was nearly lost in the pressing crowd, and Jasper never let his hand leave her waist to keep her close – though he was more than sure she'd fend perfectly well for herself had they been separated. Still, with his petite, graceful wife looking nearly scandalous in her low-cut, low-backed red slip dress, he wasn't sure he wanted her among more men than she had to be.

"There, I see them," Jasper said, tearing his eyes away from the dimples above her backside revealed by the near-indecent cut of the dress and spotting the cluster that was their family across the room. Slipping her hand into his, Alice allowed herself to be pulled through the crowd of sweet-smelling humans, the scents tantalizing but fairly easy to ignore. It wasn't so easy for her husband, and Jasper squeezed her hand tightly until they came to the little open area where Esme stood, surrounded by her family – Carlisle at her side, Emmett and Rosalie nearby, and Edward sitting on one of the uncomfortable-looking benches. Esme's face, normally happy and serene, was excited, nervous even, her smile a little too wide and her eyes a little too bright. Alice let go of Jasper's hand once they emerged from the crowd, going to hug their mother tightly.

"Oh, Esme, I'm so excited for you," she gushed, standing on the tips of her toes in excitement yet still barely reaching to the woman's chin. Esme smiled and kissed her daughter's forehead.

"How are you feeling?" Jasper asked even though he could feel the nerves radiating from her. Likely everyone could, given her jittery state.

And her answer proved the obvious. "I'm fine. Happy. Nervous." Carlisle wrapped an arm about her waist, pulling her tight to him and kissing her temple, a small show of love and support.

"Don't be, it'll be perfect," Alice insisted gleefully.

Yet Esme was still on edge as she glanced at the girl. "Are you sure?"

"Aren't I always?" she teased with a saucy flip of her choppy black locks.

Bella came over to the group, holding out a slim black cell phone. "Someone wants to wish Nana good luck."

Esme smiled and took the phone, edging to a quieter part of the room to take the call, and they overheard her chastising her granddaughter for being up so late as she walked away.

Carlisle turned to Alice with just the slightest hint of worry on his face. "It _will_ be perfect, won't it?"

Alice trilled out a laugh. "Calm down, Carlisle. The reviews will be superb."

"Though Mr. Meijer with the Tribune is positively itching to get in," Edward murmured soft enough so only they could hear and nodding his head towards a portly man in a tweed suit. His red, pudgy hands were clamped tightly around a steno pad and a pen, already taking copious notes despite having yet entered Esme's yet-to-be-opened exhibit.

"It's been a while since she's had a showing," Carlisle said gently. "She's nervous."

"We all are," Rosalie offered, squeezing her father's arm.

"When does this start?" Emmett asked and looked down at his heavy watch.

"You're going to miss _Saturday Night Live_, suck it up," Bella teased. Emmett scowled in return, though his trademark grin broke through in a minute. As Alice joined in on the banter, Jasper slipped away, going to the be-ribboned entrance to the exhibit that housed Esme's works.

She had been working on her paintings for quite a long time now, and each one was gorgeous. A nouveau masterpiece, as Carlisle had praised them, and something to be witnessed firsthand, so the papers had said in anticipation. A framed photograph of his adoptive mother hung on the wall, as well as the biography Esme's publicity team – Alice and Rosalie – had configured.

_Esme P. Cullen is the granddaughter of renowned artist Esme Platt. Her Impressionist-based, slightly Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood-slanted works began during her time spent at the Chicago College of Art and continued to flourish from there. This is her first public showing._

Her first public showing. Jasper bit back a slight laugh. True, Esme's last showing had been quite a long time ago, only a few years after he and Alice had become part of the family in 1950, and she had been known as Esme Platt then. Her art had been slightly modernist, much different than the style she had adopted now, and it had been so very well received then that Alice had found one of her paintings in an Art History textbook a few years back. They were proud of her then, just as they were proud of her now, and they all hoped that she might be just as appreciated this time around as she had been then. The Art Institute of Chicago was exceptionally excited to have her works there. Alice said the people would be too, but that was yet to be seen.

When Esme came back from her phone call, she was accompanied by the director of the museum, an angular woman with an angular platinum bob, and two smiling docents.

"Carlisle," Esme said, her voice and body flickering with a quiver of nervous excitement, "this is Anna Fragalé. The museum director."

"A pleasure," Carlisle replied as he shook the woman's bony hand, ever the gentleman with a friendly smile. "Esme's been singing your praises at home."

Anna's tightly-drawn face broke into a slightly amused smile. "And we're ecstatic that you could join us today for your wife's opening. Everyone is simply thrilled to have her."

Though Jasper could detect the professional and falsified rapture in her voice, her words were sincere, and he backed off from his desire to make her speak truthfully.

"We're almost ready to start, if Esme is," Anna announced, turning to the artist herself. Esme smiled and squeezed Carlisle's hand before walking off with the director, the docents in tow and the family following in a knot.

There was a small section roped off for them to stand in, and the Cullens watched as Esme was escorted towards the ribbon that festooned the doorway of her exhibit, her face bright even as she chewed nervously on the corner of her lip.

"She's going to do wonderfully," Alice said in a reassuring tone. Everyone else nodded their consent, positive that their mother and wife was nothing short of extraordinary and that her work would be likewise reflected. Jasper laced his hand into his wife's as Anna moved towards the podium, asking for everyone's attention. But his focus wasn't on the speaker, nor his mother. He chose instead to take a moment and absorb the feeling around him, assuring himself that these lesser mortals would truly appreciate Esme's work for the beauty that it was.

Esme had been working so very hard on her art, spending so many hours in her studio, entirely covered in paint, using the house for a model when nature or her maquettes wouldn't suffice for inspiration, even enrolling in night courses at the Chicago College of Art and Design to utilize their space and refresh her technique. She had been so entirely focused that a well-received show seemed to be deserved.

Luckily, the patrons seemed warm, ready, eager to see her work, and the feelings reaching him from the people waiting to view were all leaning towards a kinder slant – even those of the abundant critics in attendance. Edward, standing just a few paces away, met Jasper's eyes and nodded, giving a smile that could barely be noticed. The feelings of the attendants – and the thoughts too, it seemed – were all in Esme's favor.

A sudden burst of nerves entered Jasper's system – and his familiarity and affection pinpointed the feelings as Carlisle and Esme's – and he watched as his mother took the large scissors from one of the docents, taking care not to touch the woman's warm, brown hand with her own ice-cold one. A smile for the papers, a sudden snip – and the exhibit was opened.

The crowd rushed forward quicker than he thought, and with their movement came a rushing mixture of delicious odors, scents that made him close his eyes and salivate, contemplating for one minute, a split second, really, sneaking a quick meal, just one small bite. Maybe he could even –

Alice's hand tightened in his, as if she knew exactly where his mind was straying. He looked down to her, their gazes meeting – and, oh, she did know. Yet she was still here, supporting him, loving him, unworthy as he was. Jasper sighed, expelling all that succulent air from his lungs, and Alice stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

"Be strong, my love," she whispered into his ear before tugging him along beside her, leading him into the exhibit.

The area that housed the paintings was a large, white-walled series of rooms that allowed the viewer to circumnavigate through the collection without missing a single piece. It began with the landscapes, panels of the lush green Pacific Northwest, images of the home they had said goodbye to not so very long ago. Paintings of the house itself came next, somehow showing the love that filled the place in the vibrant garden and glowing windows, except for one painting Esme had flown back to complete. In it, the house stood empty, abandoned, looking as if time had weathered it down to a depressing shell of what it had been. Next to him, Alice sighed, squeezing tight to his hand and pulling him along, eager to move away from the saddening picture.

Edward was standing in front of the next series of paintings, critically examining a nighttime scene of what looked to be the Chicago skyline, done in a beautifully blurry, Impressionistic way.

"They're saying she's like a more classically based Kinkaide," he murmured out of the corner of his mouth, not taking his eyes away from the painting.

"Is that good?" Jasper asked. Though his intellect in terms of technology, philosophy, and many other studies were more than proficient – he had in fact taught many courses on those same subjects – his knowledge of art was sincerely lacking, and he relied on Alice to tutor him there.

"It's good," Alice replied with a smile. "A tad bit commercial, but that's what you get in the twenty-first century."

"Things aren't like they used to be," Edward said loftily.

Jasper strained to keep his eyes from rolling and chuckled instead. "Let's keep going," he urged his wife, leading her on to the next collection of paintings – the last group, the ones she had completed here in Chicago. There were a few more landscapes and architectural-focused paintings, but the last piece, the one that Alice had told him the papers would be salivating over in the morning, was the biggest, hanging on the last stretch of wall, the only portrait among them all. The crowd that had grown around that singular painting was murmuring excitedly, the blood nearly bubbling with delight, forcing Jasper to shut his senses down once more as they made their way closer.

"Looks almost like Fragonard, with all the light and darkness," one man said to his neighbor, looking over the painting with a critical eye.

"Chiaroscuro," the other man replied, and surely even the humans could sense the pretention in his voice.

"A modern Greek god," a woman responded. "Even the contrapposto stance. She should have sculpted this boy, not painted him."

Jasper, unable to blush, merely ducked his head low, hoping that the dark sunglasses Alice had said he would need would hide his identity enough. The painting everyone was fawning over, the one Alice had gushed about and excitedly said would be in the background of Esme's publicity photograph in the newspapers, was of a young man leaning against a front porch post, his face just barely in profile and nearly unable to be seen, but the wistful, yearning look in his eyes and posture speaking volumes. Somehow, Esme Cullen had managed to capture the look of a lover left behind in a few brush strokes, and though Jasper was pleased at her success, he was just a trifle embarrassed at such a naked representation of him.

He had known the picture would be unveiled at the exhibit, but he hadn't known Esme had been painting that day. It had been near dusk when Alice had left with Emmett and Carlisle on a hunt, and Jasper, who had stayed behind to finish an essay, watched her leave from the porch, remaining there for a few additional minutes as the sun slipped completely away and Alice disappeared into the woods near their house, her footsteps dying away like a deadened heartbeat. Esme had seen him from the doorway, this same image that was now on canvas, and she had hurried to sketch it out before transferring it with her brush, making it permanent and hanging it for all of Chicago to see.

"His skin," another woman commented softly. "It's almost glowing."

At this, Jasper heard Alice stifle a guffaw, pressing her face into his side to muffle the sound even more. Entirely too self-conscious about this whole thing, he led her away from the exhibit, back into the now-empty atrium.

"Oh, come on," Alice said smilingly, "it wasn't that bad. They loved it, you heard them."

"Yes, I know, it's just…a trifle embarrassing," he murmured in reply, sitting down on one of the hard wooden benches that lined the room. Still smiling, she edged in between his knees, resting her hands on his shoulders and looking down at him from the height her red stilettos gave her.

"I didn't think it was embarrassing," she said as a spicy scent started to emerge from her body and settle into his skin, as warm and sweet and spine-tingling as cinnamon. "In fact, I thought it was kind of sexy." Her reddened lips pursed the word in a tantalizing way, and Jasper's hands started to slide over her thighs, just barely encased in red fabric.

"Sexy?" he repeated. She chuckled low and nodded. His fingertips brushed over her back, feeling where her dress ended and her cool skin took over, bare, tempting. "How so?"

She laughed again, pressing her knee ever so slightly below his belt buckle. Jasper groaned. "You know," she said simply, as if it were obvious. "You waiting patiently for me. Missing me. Wanting me."

"Wanting you." He growled over the words, nodding slowly.

Alice drew back, her hands lacing with his and pulling him up to his feet. Her eyes were dark as she looked up with him, but certainly not with hunger. With something much deeper, more dangerous, and even more tempting. "How about we go home, hmm, Jazz? We can pretend you've been waiting for me all day…and you can show me just how much you missed me."


	3. Crusade

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Crusade**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

~*~

_**crusade**_ (n): a holy war undertaken with papal sanction; a vigorous concerted movement for a cause or against an abuse.

~*~

Alice wasn't at all surprised when the posters went up. Rosalie had been working on them at home for days now, painting them in the school colors of yellow and black, bedazzling the edges with stick-on gems, emblazoning them with catchy and/or cheesy slogans like _Don't Be Sullen, Vote Emmett Cullen_ or _Emmett Cullen: Honor Society, Straight A's, Future Homecoming King_. Emmett didn't seem at all embarrassed, only kissed her cheek and said simply, "That's my girl." Rosalie didn't bother putting up posters for herself. She had won homecoming queen every year since 1972. This would be her 20th win if she succeeded yet again – and Alice had already seen she would. The only thing Alice hadn't seen was that Emmett would have some competition.

Monday started off like a normal school day. Arriving in the Lexus, a chapter 10 quiz in math, notes on the Temperance Movement in U.S. History, chem lab, and then lunch. Alice placed a fruit cup and a grilled cheese sandwich on her tray and walked over to their normal table, a secluded space at the corner of the cafeteria. Jasper was already there, rolling an orange back and forth on the table and staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. Alice put her tray down with a clatter, snapping him out of his trance.

"You okay?" she asked quietly as she sat beside him.

"Hmmph." His noncommittal noise said nothing. Which meant it was a day like most others; he was still having to work at controlling his urges every moment at school, a trouble both difficult and commonplace. She reached over to grip his hand, moving it around her shoulder so that she snuggled against his side. Jasper's lips grazed her hairline, as much of a PDA as the school would allow – at least under the watchful eye of the cafeteria monitors.

Edward came to the table a few minutes later, an unnecessary hamburger on his tray and a worn flannel shirt on his body that Alice wrinkled her nose at.

"Grunge is in, Alice," he chastised as he sat down. "Get used to it."

"Ugh," she replied, pulling a face. "Can't we spruce it up a bit? You always dressed so nicely in the sixties."

"Which was thirty years ago, sister dear," he teased with a little grin.

Alice shook her head sadly just as her body started to seize up. She froze for a moment as a vision flickered through her mind, one that made her grin…and fear Rosalie just the slightest bit.

"Alice? What is it?"

Jasper was looking at her with concern in his eyes, the same look he always gave her when she had a vision, be it good or bad.

"Oh, no," Edward murmured. "You didn't. Tell me you did not do what I just saw."

"I couldn't help it, she was being so smug!" Alice insisted.

"Did what? What's going on?" Jasper said, looking bewildered.

"You mean you didn't ask him?" Edward cried, glancing back and forth between his brother and sister.

Alice bit her lip. "Well…I just wanted to see if it could happen."

"Just wanted…couldn't you have done that on your own, you little fortuneteller?"

"Yes, but –"

"No buts. Carlisle's going to have a field day with this. Think of the arguing in the house. Rose is going to be _beyond_ pissed."

"And you _know_ a part of you is excited about that. Don't be so hoity-toity, Edward Cullen." Alice crossed her arms over her chest smugly, giving him a stare until he cracked the smallest of smiles. Her words were true; getting back at Rosalie was one of his favorite pastimes, and here Alice was doing the dirty work for him. It was an opportunity that served them both.

"Will you two stop arguing and tell me what is going on?" Jasper cried, planting his fists on the table.

Edward raised his eyebrows at Alice. "Well? Go on and tell him."

But telling him wasn't necessary. Rosalie chose that moment to come stalking into the cafeteria, an irate look on her face as she moved towards their table. Emmett followed dutifully, an apologetic look on his face.

"Alice Cullen," she said, spitting the words out like daggers, "do you want to tell me what little game you're playing?"

Alice did her best to smile angelically. "What do you mean, Rosie?"

"Don't 'Rosie' me, Alice." Rosalie threw a crumpled piece of paper onto the table and pointed to it with one long, glossy, French-manicured nail. "This. What are you doing?"

Edward snorted out a laugh and Alice bit nervously on her pinky nail as Jasper smoothed out the paper – a flyer with big red letters that spelled out _Make the Right Choice: Jasper Hale for Homecoming King_.

"Don't be mad," Alice murmured, putting her hand on her husband's knee to assuage him. "I saw it in a vision. I _had_ to do it."

"You didn't _have_ to," Rosalie corrected. "You were just being spiteful."

"Rosie," Emmett said strongly.

"I just wanted to see if he could win, okay?" Alice retorted.

"And you'll regret it if he does," Rosalie said threateningly. "Come on, Emmett. We're leaving." Again, Emmett shot them all an apologetic glance but followed his wife out of the cafeteria and towards the library. Left behind, Alice slumped down in her seat, pouting ever so slightly.

"I saw it in my vision, it sparked my curiosity, so I followed it, okay? No big deal," she scoffed. It was true. She had seen the vision of her flyers just this morning and realized what a good opportunity it would be for Jasper to feel important, and for Rosalie to be taken down a peg. Sneaking into the teacher's lounge to make the copies had been easy, and she had posted them up around the school during the Pledge of Allegiance – she had been moving too quickly for anyone to see, and Mr. Moran had a hangover and wouldn't miss her anyways. The posters were up, he would be added to the vote, and that was that. No going back now.

"Who's to say I even _want_ to try?"

Jasper's voice was quiet, yet still got her attention. She looked up to see him staring at his hands as he spoke.

Alice sighed, immediately feeling guilty. Maybe doing all this 'for his own good' or 'to teach Rosalie a lesson' was a bad idea after all. "Do you want me to stop?" she asked gently. If he said yes, she would. Truly, she hadn't even stopped to give much thought about him, only thought of the outcomes: Jasper feeling more confident among the humans and a vision of Rosalie looking anticipatory and slightly furious just moments before the crowning. It was enough to make her decide then and there – but perhaps that had been the wrong thing to do. "I'll stop if you want me to. I'll take it all back."

Jasper smiled the tiniest bit. "No. I'm sure you wouldn't do it without good reason."

Alice glanced down at the table. "Well…."

"I believe she was just trying to give you an opportunity to feel better about yourself. Weren't you, Alice?" Edward asked, coming to her rescue.

She smiled at him gratefully. "Something like that."

Jasper's hand edged over the table, reaching around hers, massaging her skin with his thumb. "If that's it…then yes."

"Yes?" Alice repeated, her eyes nearly popping from her head.

"Yes. Let's do it."

Maybe it was that he wasn't upset with her. Or that he was going to win – at least half of her visions pointed to that. Or maybe it was just that Rosalie would finally be taken from that ridiculous selfish streak she had been going through for nearly a year. Whatever the case, Alice felt herself flooding with such a sense of joy and love for her husband that she couldn't help throwing her arms around him and planting the biggest kiss possible on his lips – even if it _did_ get her that detention.

~*~

And so it began. Yes, Carlisle and Esme were slightly displeased, but then Esme – biting back the slightest smile – admitted that a bit of healthy competition never hurt anyone. So Alice put up more flyers.

Which led to Rosalie graffiti-ing Emmett's names in all the girls' bathrooms.

Alice's posters that followed had Jasper's picture printed on them – much to his chagrin.

Rosalie made t-shirts.

Alice handed out buttons.

Their sparring went on until the night of the dance. The two girls had refused to speak to each other for three days in advance, which made sitting in the living room waiting for their husbands to come down exceptionally uncomfortable. Rosalie was dressed in a floor-length, skintight purple vinyl dress that Rosalie thought made her look gorgeous…if not a trifle slutty. Though she had heard Rosalie's snide remark that taffeta was so eighties. But what did she know? Besides, Alice's dress was only part taffeta, and the black sequined bodice made up for it. She ran her hands over the glittery stomach and down to the hot pink taffeta hem, straightening it out and trying her best to ignore Rosalie.

Edward came into the room, smirking slightly at the two of them. "Well, Alice, who's going to be crowned king?"

Alice sneered. "You know very well I can't see. The votes don't start until tonight, and humans are too fickle."

"Where's your suit?" Rosalie asked, looking their brother up and down.

Edward shrugged his flannel-clad shoulders. "I'm not going."

"Why not?"

Alice longed to speak up, to cut her off before Rose could hurt their brother with her words, albeit unknowingly. Edward had no desire to go to a dance where he'd have to watch everyone else paired off in couples while he remained alone on the sidelines. His anti-romantic funks were few and far between – with the biggest having occurred during his 60s beatnik phase – but when they happened, they were deep. Rosalie's question would sting, no doubt. But Alice wasn't about to break their silent treatment to inform her of that.

"Edward," she said instead, hoping to distract him, "will you go see what's taking the boys so long?"

"Actually, I think they've come to tell you themselves," Edward announced, looking out into the hallway. Not a moment too soon, Emmett and Jasper entered the room – in jeans and t-shirts.

"What the hell?" Rosalie cried. "Emmett, what are you doing? I laid your suit out on the bed!"

"I know," Emmett replied simply. "I ignored it."

Alice didn't have to ask any questions. She could already see that their night would be spent in normalcy, comfortable clothes in front of the fireplace, board games, the whole "family fun night" thing Esme had been so wanting. But…

"What about the dance?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Emmett and I had a talk," Jasper explained. "And if this little crusade you two are going on is going to be the reason you're not talking, neither of us want a part of it."

"But you _know_ it would end tonight," Rosalie pleaded. "Once we find out who was voted and –"

"And whoever's crowned has to be in attendance, so I guess none of us are winning today," Emmett finished for her. "Come on, Rosie. What's more important, a stupid crown or all of us getting along?"

Rosalie crossed her arms and scowled but said nothing, knowing she had been bested.

Alice sighed and nodded. "You're right. I…I'll go get changed."

The taffeta of her hem swished with each step as she trudged up the stairs, and it made her just the slightest bit upset. And then the slightest bit guilty. The boys were right. This had been a stupid contest to get back at Rosalie. And Emmett and Jasper had done that the best way possible, by denying her what she wanted without making her feel too bad. Alice had been spiteful. Wrong. Mean to her only sister. She really ought to go and apologize…or maybe Rosalie should do it first.

A chuckle sounded from somewhere behind her. Jasper was waiting in the doorway of their bedroom, watching as she slipped into her cotton nightdress.

"Something funny?" she asked. Though her disappointment at not going to the dance or wearing her dress or watching Jasper be crowned king was great, seeing him smile was worth it.

"Thank you for understanding," he said simply, coming closer to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her against him. She burrowed her face into his chest, smelling that musky, masculine scent and finding comfort in it.

"I only wanted to make you feel stronger," she murmured against him.

"I know," he replied, his words meeting the top of her head as he pressed his lips into her hair.

"I thought if you won, you'd be more sure of yourself," she went on.

Again, Jasper chuckled. With his fingers under her chin, he drew her face up towards his, staring into her eyes with a look that so burned with love it set her heart afire.

"Alice," he said gently, "you believe in me. That's enough."

She smiled once more, and buried her face in his chest again. "More than enough."


	4. Awkward

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Awkward**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**awkward**_ (adj): not dexterous or clumsy; difficult to handle or manage; uncomfortable.

* * *

Though she had already seen that he would be late, Alice was just the slightest bit upset that Jasper hadn't shown at their lockers between second and third period. The time between Trig and Italian for her and Latin and AP Lit for him was the only spare moment they had before lunch, and they both looked forward to it each day. Only thing was, this day he didn't make it on time. She waited at the locker, knowing he'd show with only seconds to spare and hoping to get a quick kiss in before darting off to Italian. In the meantime, she opened her locker to reveal the small lighted mirror hanging there and stopped to check up on her makeup. The eighties had been good to her, fashion-wise, but this blue eye shadow craze was annoying as hell. Alice let Rosalie pile the stuff on and instead kept to her usual eyeliner, splurging instead on the neon spandex and off the shoulder tops that were such a better change from last decade's bellbottoms.

Barely a minute before class started, Alice spotted Jasper speeding down the hall, moving as fast as he could without the humans noticing. She crossed her arms and pouted at him as he approached.

"I got here as fast as I could," he said, stopping to quickly open his locker and exchange his book. "Mr. Moran kept us after to finish up the study guide."

"I know," Alice replied simply. "I saw him lecturing. Is he always that boring?"

Jasper grinned. "Usually worse. Don't you have a class to run off to, Signorina?"

She groaned. "I wish we had more classes together. Can't you switch languages? Hearing you speak Italian always makes me think such thoughts…"

Jasper closed his eyes tight as Alice ran a hand up his arm to grip his shoulder. "Now, Alice? When I'm about to give a presentation in front of my whole class?"

She laughed a little and took her hand away. "Sorry. Think of nuns. Baseball. Kittens."

"Yummy."

"Jasper!"

"Kidding, only kidding."

"Tease," she retorted. "For that, you can think of that new black satin set I bought last week that's been hanging in the closet just waiting to be used."

"_Now_ who's the tease?" he shot back just as the warning bell rang. Alice grinned and tugged him down to her height, kissing him quick but deep, giving him one last punishment in the form of a little bite to his bottom lip. Jasper growled against her mouth and pinched her backside before striding away, off to a presentation she hoped he wouldn't be too embarrassed over. Alice's Italian class wasn't too far, but she still had to speed fairly fast to make it on time.

Italian was a subject she had all to herself – Edward, the only one in her grade level, chose to take Spanish instead. And so Alice sat in the back row with no one next to her – none of the student body had reached out to the Cullens, but it was something she was used to after some thirty-odd years of schooling. They were all used to it. It made them closer as a family, and it gave her time during the lessons to keep an eye on the others. Emmett's day seemed fairly normal, though he would get caught making a paper football in fourth period. Rosalie had a pop quiz coming that class, but Alice had warned her about that last night. Edward's teacher would be giving them a free period, the lucky man, and Jasper…

_Oh my._

Right at this moment, Jasper was giving his presentation on _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_, trying very hard to think only of the theme of keeping one's reputation within the story. But in a few minutes…well, suffice it to say, Alice saw what she needed to do. Her hand went up like a shot, waiting patiently until Signora Lewis finished conjugating and called on her.

"Posso andare al bagno, per favore?" she asked sweetly, hoping the usually strict madam would kowtow.

Signora looked slightly perturbed, but nodded her head. "Si, vacci."

Alice grabbed her purse and walked from the room, trying to keep her pace slightly slow until she made it out the door. Once there, in the freedom of the hallway, she sped up, making it to the front office in record time. Mrs. Zekes was there, filing and answering phones, entirely too busy to focus, and she didn't ask questions when Alice handed her the note that requested Jasper Hale's presence in the AV room. It almost made sense, what with Jasper being one of the AV boys, in charge of setting up projectors and movies. Him coming to the AV room would be no big deal. Except for maybe what he saw when he got there.

By the time Alice made it to the AV room, Jasper would have already gotten his note and would be speeding there through the empty hallways. She had only enough time to make sure the coast was clear before the door opened, and Jasper called out a questioning hello.

Alice stepped into the small space between the TV carts and stacks of projection reels, smiling lightly and hoping he would be surprised.

"Alice? What are you doing here?"

Apparently, he was. She grinned wider.

"Waiting for you," she answered simply. "What took you so long?"

"I only just got the note and…wait, no one needs anything from AV?"

She shook her head slowly, her eyes piercing his, letting him know exactly how she was feeling. Jasper's mouth slowly crooked into a grin, and his eyes shimmered likewise, and it was only two seconds before –

He pounced. She sidestepped.

He leapt again. She jumped onto a filing cabinet, looking down at him from the height.

He reached out for her ankles. She stepped off just in time and pressed herself into a corner between three projectors, hiding just out of view.

But it wasn't enough. He found her, a deep, hungry look in his stare, the hunter stalking his prey. She shrunk back against the wall.

"What did I tell you about teasing?" he growled, the sound rumbling from deep in his throat, making her shiver.

But their relationship was not one of domination, and she stared at him just as strongly, just as hungrily. "Are you displeased I brought you here, Jazz?" As the words fell from her lips, she played with the thin tie he wore, loosening it until it slipped from his neck.

He chuckled low. "No…not at all." His fingertips slid under her sweatshirt, easing it up and over her head.

She leaned close to him, running her lips over his earlobe. "And do you forgive me for being such a tease?" A gentle bite on his lobe punctuated her words, and he groaned, his hands gripping her waist tightly.

"Yes," he murmured and rocked his hips against hers, letting her feel exactly what she had done to him.

"You know, I've only got about ten more minutes before I have to get back to class," Alice whispered, unbuttoning his shirt quickly.

"Then we should use those minutes wisely," Jasper replied, his hand reaching up under her spandex mini and sliding his hand across her legging-covered thighs.

"Oh, I agree." She tugged his shirt off and gripped his shoulders tight, bringing his face to hers for a kiss. His lips were soft but his movement forceful, hurried, passionate. Her tongue slipped out to meet his, and she tangled her fingers in his thick hair, getting caught as she tried to run them through.

"Too much gel," she said with a laugh.

Jasper rolled his eyes. "You're the one who put it in, my love."

She kissed him again, laughing against his mouth as he picked her up, letting her wrap her legs around his waist as he held her. Slowly, he ran his lips over her neck, nuzzling, sucking, kissing, biting her skin there.

"Nine minutes left," she reminded him gently as she moved his mouth to her shoulder, biting her bra strap and tugging it down with his teeth. He picked up the pace then, sliding her leggings down and pushing her back against a filing cabinet with just a _little_ too much force. The drawers on the other side shot out, landing on the floor with a loud metallic clatter…and Alice only had a split second to see what would happen as a result.

"Fuck…get dressed, quick!" she hissed, tugging her leggings up and readjusting her bra strap. But there wasn't enough time. Mrs. Sanders, the AP history teacher, heard the noise from the hall and barged in, catching them in the act – Jasper standing in nothing but a pair of tight acid-washed jeans, Alice in her leggings, mini, and bra, both of them frozen and bewildered while Mrs. Sanders tapped the toe of her turquoise pumps against the pink tile floor.

Of course there was the inquisition. Carlisle and Esme were beyond furious at being brought to school to discuss the 'deviant behavior' of their children, and the two faced punishment at home as well as out-of-school suspension (which the wronged parties felt was fairly stupid, giving them access to each other in the home they shared for an entire week). They promised to never do something so childish and stupid again before being assigned the task of reorganizing the attic, something they were able to do diligently and with much focus.

Because, while 'attempting to fornicate' in the AV room of Ellis High was childish and stupid, having sex in the crawl space was not.


	5. Raindrops

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Raindrops**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**raindrops**_ (n): small indefinite quantities of rain (water falling in drops from vapor condensed in the atmosphere).

* * *

"It's time."

Alice looked up from the rain-streaked window and turned. Esme was standing in the doorway, dressed in a long dark blue dress that flowed down her form like a river. It was appropriate, given the weather and the mood in the house.

"Carlisle and I are with Rosalie and Emmett," Esme went on. "Jasper's driving the Volvo with you and Edward. I figured it was best to put him with you, since…"

"Jasper will help," Alice finished for her. "I will too. As best I can." She stooped down to pick up her aubergine Birkin bag, slinging it over her elbow and lowering her sunglasses. On a day like today, they weren't needed to block out the sun; she just didn't want anyone to see the sadness in her eyes – even though she could hardly block the emotion in theirs.

"Alice."

Esme reached out for her arm as she walked through the door. Alice stopped to look back at her mother, trying to keep her lip from quivering.

"Will he…"

Alice shrugged, her throat far too full to speak for a moment. A few swallows and she murmured, "He told me not to look. How can I see if he told me not to?"

"But surely…"

"Edward can be just as obstinate as Rosalie when he puts his mind to it. He said he won't do anything until she…well…she's human. There will be a day when she…"

Esme nodded sadly. "But until then, what do we do?"

Again, Alice shrugged. "Whatever it may be, don't sell the house. Not yet, at least. I can see that much."

"I couldn't bear to anyways," she said with a sigh. "It's been too much of a home. We'll be back someday. Maybe after…"

Alice shut her eyes tight, trying not to see the visions that sprung up in her mind, images of Bella lying near-comatose in the woods behind her house, keeping that look as she lay in bed, again in bed as an old woman, dying, dying without him there, without all of them there –

"_Alice_."

Esme's voice was commanding and strong, snapping her back to the present and reminding her just why she reigned as matriarch of the family.

"Sorry," Alice replied. "I'll go to the car now." She stopped to hug her mother tightly before leaving the room. Her room. Their home. For the last time.

It was still raining outside, a hard, cold, biting rain that made a loud staccato on the porch roof. Jasper was waiting at the front steps, holding a black umbrella over his head.

"Ready to go?" he asked quietly. She nodded and held her Birkin tight against her body, making sure it didn't get wet, even as she stood under the umbrella. As she held onto her purse, Jasper held onto her, guiding her to the silver car that waited just behind Rosalie's rumbling BMW. She waited as he opened the door and started to slide in – but Jasper's hand on her waist held her back. Alice looked up, waiting to see what it is he wanted, but found in his face a simple look of love and devotion, so heartwarming and strengthening that she thought maybe they could truly get through this.

"Thank you," she murmured, the words breaking slightly in her throat, and he leaned down to kiss her quickly before ushering her into the car. Alice settled into the seat, not bothering to buckle her seatbelt, and flipped down the mirror to check on her hair – catching sight of Edward in the backseat as she did so.

He was exceedingly pale, even moreso than he normally was, with a yellowish, sickly tint to his skin. His eyes were darker than ever, black, empty, glazed-over holes peering out from his face, thick shadows underneath making them look even worse. He had drawn his lips up in a tight horizontal line, his chest was refusing to move with breath, and his fists were clenched until his knuckles nearly popped. Alice wondered if it was all a sign that he was holding so much emotion in…or if he was truly as empty inside as his eyes made him out to be. Either the case, he didn't respond to her silent thoughts, or when she said his name in a pleading tone.

Jasper eased into the driver's seat, started the car, and settled his left hand on the wheel, reaching out for Alice with his right. She gripped his hand in hers, turning her head towards the window. The house could be seen just a few feet away, the rain distorting the pattern a little. It had been a home, warm and bright, and for the first time everyone had been happy. Rosalie and Emmett had been good (most of the time), Carlisle had been happy working in the smaller hospital, and Edward had had…

A shifting in the backseat reminded her of Edward's gift, and she tried to censor her thoughts, staring instead at the house. Even with all the love that had been in it just days before, it was now empty in more than a physical way. It looked hollow, alone, abandoned, even frightening. The windows had been boarded up that morning, and the door was locked up tight, keeping everyone – even their family – out.

Jasper squeezed her hand tight before putting both palms on the steering wheel, easing them away from the house and down the drive. The rain still fell, and soon it washed the vision of their house, and of Forks, away.


	6. Sour

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Sour**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**sour**_ (adj.): having a taste characteristic of that produced by acids; sharp, tart, or tangy; bad-tempered and morose; peevish; not measuring up to the expected or usual ability or quality; bad.

* * *

"Oh, come on, Alice, you know I didn't mean anything by it."

Didn't mean anything by it? Of _course_ he meant something by it! He was her husband. Had he no respect for her?

"Really, I had to do it."

Had to do it? _Had to do it_? She stopped in her walk from the car long enough to turn around and pierce him with a blazing glare, letting her words go unspoken in her gaze.

"Alice, come on!" Jasper cried, trying to reach out for her hand and missing as she sidestepped. "It was only fair."

"_Fair_?!" Again she whipped around, and Alice screeched out the word before heading up the porch steps and throwing the door open only to slam it shut behind her.

Imagine the nerve! As if being married to someone for over fifty years was nothing! It was like they were complete strangers, the way he was treating her. Alice threw her schoolbag to the ground near the door and stomped her way up the stairs, heading to the bedroom to sulk. Halfway there, Edward poked his head out of his own room, a pencil tucked behind his ear.

"Why so glum?" he asked, biting a little smile. She knew very well her tantrums, however rare, always intrigued him. The happy-go-lucky pixie so rarely got upset that her times of trial were almost a source of amusement for him. Alice, rather than answering in what would surely end up being a yelling fit, let him know exactly what happened through her angered thoughts alone.

And after a moment, Edward guffawed.

"Laugh? You _laugh_ at what he did?" Alice shrieked.

"It _is_ fair, Alice," Edward defended.

Like a shot, Alice reached back her arm and punched her brother in the shoulder. He winced and recoiled, even though the pain could not be much.

"Don't get upset with me," he said as he rubbed his upper arm. "I'm not the one who did it."

It was true, but she still flounced down the hall, upset with the both of them, and slammed her door with a great amount of zest once she reached the bedroom.

Now that she was there, alone, she tried not to let the regret hit her in one big wave. She always felt that way after fighting with Jasper, that she had jumped too quickly into emotion and ought to have given him more of a chance. But no, she had to stick to her guns. Jasper was in the wrong. And so she was free to behave a little dramatically. Sensing his arrival would be within a minute or so, she flung herself across the bed, facing away from the door just a few moments before it opened.

"Alice?"

His tone might be apologetic, but she could already see he wouldn't go back to fix his erroneous actions.

"Alice, will you give me a chance to explain?"

She made a muffled noise into the pillow and felt the edge of the bed sag where he sat upon it.

"I didn't do anything to hurt you or cause you pain. I wasn't being biased in helping _or_ hindering you. It's just…you were outdated."

"Outdated?!" Alice sat up and glared. Outdated! As if she, an immortal being, was past her prime!

"Not you!" Jasper insisted, holding up his hands. "Not you. Your ideas. It's just…everyone else is more forward thinking."

She scowled. "I suppose that comes from being born before the _nineteen twenties_."

Jasper reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of paper, the image she had invisioned just an hour ago, the one that had made her so furious – her philosophy essay with a big 68 circled in red ink at the top.

"You see here?" he said, pointing to where he had scribbled in the margins. "You can't write an essay on technology by saying we'd be better off without it."

"It's a _philosophy_ class, _Professor Hale_," she said scathingly. "It's _my_ philosophy."

"Yes, but your given topic was on the _benefits_, wasn't it?" Jasper replied. "I ought to know, as I assigned it. _After_ you requested that I change it from your original topic on nuclear missile defense."

She looked away then, just the smallest bit embarrassed. It was true, she had requested the topic and had written her essay just as he said she had. And yes, she had been using his status as her husband and professor to her advantage…but he still shouldn't have failed her!

"So that's it?" Jasper murmured, a hint of sadness in his voice that she tried to make sure she didn't fall for. "You're going to be upset with me because I'm doing my job?"

"Failing me is your job?" she countered, still staring at the bedspread.

"Giving _accurate_ reports is my job," he replied.

"I'm sure you gave a _thoroughly_ accurate report to Missy Steinham."

She blurted it out before she could stop herself – her private fear that Edward had convinced her was folly but that she still spent nights worrying over. Missy was pretty with long chestnut hair and a gorgeous curvy figure to rival Rosalie's, and that was ignoring the heaps of brains she had on top of that. Jasper called on her with a smile in class, and Alice continually felt a twinge on envy and green-eyed jealousy whenever he did.

"Is that what this is about?" Jasper asked warily.

Alice bit the corner of her lip and said nothing. After a moment of silence, a gentle pressure covered her hand on the pillow – Jasper's fingers sliding over hers.

"You know you're the only girl for me, Alice," she heard him say, his voice soothing like ocean waves, assuring her more than anyone else ever could. "Besides, Missy only got a C."

"A C?" she repeated, a tiny bit of pleasure inflected in her voice.

Jasper chuckled. "She overanalyzed. And she has horrible grammar."

Alice sighed and turned on the bed, leaning into her husband's shoulder as she laced her fingers into his. "So…we could just ignore my histrionics, then?"

He kissed her forehead, his lips brushing her skin like satin. "We can try."

"And you could raise my grade?"

"_Alice_."

"Bonus points?"

Again, he laughed, but this time it was a darker, heavier, more suggestive sound. "I think we can work out some sort of arrangement."


	7. Crave

****

The Twilight Twenty-Five

Prompt: **Crave**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**crave**_ (v): to have an intense desire for; to need urgently.

* * *

It was a hunger like she had never felt before. All-encompassing, the very moment she had seen them. They were a perfectly matched pair – double the appeal, double the desire, double the salivation she had at the mere thought of them. Edward worried that her thoughts were much too preoccupied, Bella and Rosalie tried to distract her with promises of shopping trips, and even Jasper feared her hunger would get the best of her. Yet she couldn't help it. She watched them day after day, a hunter stalking prey, feeding on the thrill she got from seeing them, hungry for the day she might finally take hold and satiate her craving.

"Really, Alice," Edward chastised one morning, "I could hear you all the way in our room. Can't you at least try to tone down your thoughts?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Alice mused as she made one last flourishing answer on her biology worksheet.

He narrowed his amber eyes at her, pursing his mouth. "Don't play around. Just have them and get it over with. It'll save me the headache."

"As if you could possibly get a headache," she retorted.

They didn't speak of it for the rest of the day, and Alice danced off to school with blood-red thoughts encompassing her head, caring not a whit for the winces Edward kept shooting her way. She doodled pictures of her obsessions in the margins of her notebook, spent Physics daydreaming about the ultimate moment of consumption, and didn't stop salivating until Jasper tapped her shoulder during Study Hall.

"Hey, beautiful," he whispered, making her snap to the present and smile. His eyes flickered over to Mrs. Farris, the monitor on duty, before he dropped down to the seat at her side, pressing his lips to hers quickly, pulling away just in time before Mrs. Farris looked their way.

"Hi, Jazz," Alice replied as she laced her hand in his. "How was your French quiz?"

He laughed. "You tell me."

She grinned. "An A, naturally."

"So," Jasper said gently, rubbing his thumb over the skin of her hand in an obvious effort to distract her, "tell me something…when are you going to let this little 'hunger' of yours go?"

Alice arched a jet eyebrow. "Do you really think it's so silly?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm just saying. Edward's getting beyond irritated. Even Carlisle and Esme are worried it's taking up too much of your time. That it's getting a level where you might just…snap. Go entirely crazy. Cause way too much damage."

"Do you think I will?" she asked, trying very hard not to grit her teeth. He was, after all, just the messenger.

"Well, there _was_ that time in Milan during Fashion Week –"

"That has nothing to do with this!"

Jasper shushed her with a finger to his lips, his eyes darting over to a very angry-looking Mrs. Farris.

Alice tried again, her voice lower. "That was just …a frenzy. I'll be good this time. I swear."

He sighed and looked down at his hands. "Well, if it's such a temptation…maybe you should just have them."

Her eyes flared with a sudden dark hunger, her mind filling with the knowledge of a truthful vision, and reached over to grab his hand, tugging him to his feet and behind one of the rows of books.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jasper hissed after they were out of Mrs. Farris's line of vision, safely hidden at the back of the library.

"We're skipping out," Alice said, waiting the seven seconds she knew it would take for the monitor to turn her back. With Jasper's hand firmly clenched in hers, she led him out of the library, down the hall, out the door, and to the Porsche parked just outside.

"Alice, if Carlisle finds out –"

"He won't," she cut him off as she unlocked the car.

"You sure?" Jasper asked while, ever the gentleman, he opened the driver's side door for her.

She laughed and slipped into the seat. "Aren't I always?"

He rolled his eyes, but went around the car to slide in next to her, holding her hand across the seats while she peeled out of the lot. She drove like a woman possessed, her eyes on one thing only – the lovely twins she would soon possess. She was a lioness, they her helpless gazelle – and within an hour she was pulling into a parking spot just outside the downtown area where she knew she would find them. She didn't stop to listen to the words of forewarning she knew Jasper was warming up, instead speeding from the car – stopping just long enough to lock the doors – and heading to the very center of the town square, right where they were, almost as if they were waiting for her.

They were perfect. Dazzling. Mouthwatering. A one-of-a-kind pair of marine-colored Swarovski-studded peep-toe Christian Louboutin pumps with a price tag too much to even print in the magazines. Jasper had had to have J call just to find it out, and Carlisle disapproving look had been enough to keep her from purchasing them and there. But now, now with Jasper's words, she knew approval would be easy to come by – and that her own finances would be enough for the exorbitant price tag.

There was a bodyguard at the door who, after a momentary glance, let them inside the exclusive boutique. Alice promptly marched over to a waifish clerk, requesting the Swarovski Louboutins in marine (not oxblood, those looked far too ruby-slipper-ish) in a size 4-and-a-half.

The clerk straightened her elegant black blazer and sneered down her cosmetically perfected nose. "I'm sorry, _miss_," she replied, spitting out the supposedly polite word, "I believe those might be more suited for a…_older_ woman."

An older woman. It was almost laughable, given how old Alice truly was – not to mention how by 'older' the clerk had really meant 'richer.' Alice heard the near-inaudible growl coming from her husband just behind her and saw the woman's face melt a little, her stiff attitude easing to a point where she would be easier to work with.

"I'm sure we'll be able to figure something out," Alice said genially, sliding her thick black AmEx card out of her purse and holding it in the air like a peace offering.

Some ten minutes later, Jasper and Alice emerged from the boutique with one very expensive shopping bag in addition, her craving satiated and her checking account nearly emptied.

"Carlisle's going to have a conniption," Jasper murmured as they made their way back to the car.

"Yes, but Edward will be pleased that I've stopped my constant daydreams," Alice countered. "Besides, I'll make up for it."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Just how do you plan on doing that?"

Her grin spread over her face slowly. "We'll need to stop at the gas station on the way home."

"But Alice, the tank's full."

"Yes, but lottery tickets don't buy themselves."


	8. Erosion

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Erosion**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**erosion**_ (n): the process of eroding; the group of natural processes, including weathering, dissolution, abrasion, corrosion, and transportation, by which material is worn away from the earth's surface.

* * *

Harold Yarborough took pride that, even at the ripe old age of 74, he still walked each morning to Gert's Eats, the local diner, for his favorite bottomless cup of coffee and the best donut he had found outside of his mother's kitchen. It was in one of his favorite parts of town, just next to the hardware store and the post office and right across the street from the local high school. Every single morning, rain or shine, Harold let out the cat, grabbed his key and his umbrella – just in case – and left the house, taking the five minute stroll down to the diner where he would order his coffee and his cake donut and sit at the end of the counter near the window so he could watch the people passing by, the businessmen on their way to work, the children going to school, and everyone scurrying through the life he had grown too old for.

That morning, a slight drizzle was covering the town, and Harold's umbrella was a necessity, as was his raincoat and hat. Both went on quickly, the cat went out reluctantly, and Harold himself went out into the rain with his shoulders hunched over and his umbrella held high. The walk took less time that morning, given how fast he was moving through the wet streets, and Gert's daughter Maggie greeted him with a smile when he set the bell above the door ringing.

He had been a regular at Gert's for just about three years now, ever since his wife had passed. Marie had been a nag and had constantly wanted him at home with her, for breakfast or special dinners or just to watch those silly feminine dramas she so loved at night. He snorted at them and sometimes had to escape for a night out with the boys – a pastime she hated and berated him for the next morning. He'd complain she gave him headaches and she'd complain he gave her indigestion, and they fought on and on for just at fifty years of marriage. Fifty years of tiffs at the breakfast table and her soap opera magazines and his never being able to wear shoes inside of the house and having to take their sons on his private fishing expeditions. Fifty years of her burnt casseroles and poor attempts at gardening and complaining at his obsession with college football. It had been almost more than he could take.

But then she had died. Up and died, so suddenly, one morning when she should have been awake fussing about toast and marmalade. And, for the first time in a long time…he missed her. Missed her whining and her gab-fests on the phone with her sister and the way she would always comment on his gray hairs and those day-in-day-out breakfasts. The breakfasts with toast and marmalade, eggs, sometimes those delicious hamsteaks if she was in a giving mood, and her chitchat over the coffee pot.

That was the reason he came to Gert's. To get away from that empty breakfast table. To go on another day without that annoying loudmouth of a woman he had so loved.

A pair walking by outside the diner stopped on the street corner, catching his attention. They were young – high schoolers on their way to class, by the look of their bags and the fresh-in-love way they held on to each other's hands. The boy was tall and muscular with blond hair that fell a little too long for Harold's old-fashioned sense. The girl, a black-haired little beauty, seemed almost too small for him, almost like they weren't quite a matching set – but the love they had for each other poured out in every glance, every touch shared between them. It was obvious that they were together, and that they would, by the grace of God, stay that way. Silently, Harold bowed his head, saying a little prayer…to God…to Marie…that they might have that blessing for the rest of their lives.


	9. Platonic

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Platonic**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**platonic**_ (adj.): transcending physical desire and tending toward the purely spiritual or ideal.

* * *

Chess was one of the few games Alice and Edward could play without a fear of cheating – at least to a certain extent. What with his mind-reading and her constantly checking up on his future moves, they had to think carefully before making any move. Their games either lasted a very short amount of time (their record being two minutes sixteen seconds) or a very, very, very long amount (that record holding strong at two days, four hours, fifty minutes, and forty eight seconds, but that was mostly because Edward refused to concede). The games began shortly after Alice and Jasper had come to the family, and now, a few months into their time as Cullens, Edward and Alice had the routine of spending the evenings when Jasper had class as well as Saturday afternoons playing a few games.

Oftentimes, the entire family would gather to watch the two go head-to-head in a challenge, Emmett trying to coerce someone to take bets as to how long they would last, Esme hushing him so they could watch in peace. Rosalie egging Edward on and cheering Alice along just to cause him displeasure. And afterwards, when it was done – meaning, when one of them had given in to the other – Edward would smile and laugh and kiss his sister's cheek before replacing the chess pieces back in their rightful squares.

It was the kiss that shook Jasper up.

He had had a sister, long ago. Cathy. She had been some six years younger than him, one of the only two children his parents had managed to keep past their first birthdays. He didn't remember too much, only a freckled face with blonde braids that he recalled tugging often, a hanger-on sort of girl that he often tried to ignore or get rid of, at least until he got slightly older. And even then, even when he appreciated having a sister instead of another child in the long row of graves behind the Texas homestead, he had been more excited to go on to war, writing letters to his mother and father and never to her. Jasper knew what it was like to have a sister, to be a brother. And he worried that perhaps Edward's kisses weren't quite so brotherly as they seemed.

And it wasn't just the after-chess kiss. It was the books he would lend to her, books she would rave over, saying how thoughtful a man he was and how well he knew what she liked. The time they would spend together playing the piano or the harp or whatever occupied their fancy in the music room. The sudden change of mood he would get every time she came into the room. It was all beginning to make him more suspicious…and more angry. Soon, he would snap and do something that would get him in trouble – or worse, invoke Alice's wrath.

Surely Edward had to know of these feelings. With his gift – and Jasper's inability to hold much back when it came to his fiancée – he had to realize what his new brother was thinking. Strangely enough, Jasper hardly cared. He even hoped he had seen some of those things he had been thinking – especially the one from last Tuesday. After seeing Edward give Alice's arm a little squeeze as they sat at the piano playing a duet, Jasper had a long and slightly unhealthy daydream about cornering Edward in his own room and slowly, one at a time, breaking off his fingers. It was an injury he would be able to recover from easily, provided Jasper didn't take it one step further and burn the pieces. Whether Edward had seen what Jasper had imagined or whether he had been too engrossed in the duet (and in Jasper's future wife), Jasper wasn't sure. The only sign he had been given had been a slight chill in Edward's attitude the next day and a grimace that had ran over the man's face as his eyes met with Jasper's across the living room.

Jasper found his mind running more rampant lately, especially as Alice became more engrossed in wedding plans and was less available to him. He himself was focused a great deal on school, but spent a not-so-small amount of time eyeing down Edward and having slightly sadistic fantasies of what he might do to the man if he indeed got to close. Sewing his lips shut, locking him in the trunk of his own car, unlocking the breaks on the grand piano and somehow managing to run it through the wall –

"Please don't. It's the only piano we have."

Edward was posed in the doorway of Jasper's study, his arms folded over his chest. Jasper supposed he ought to feel immediately ashamed or repentant for his heinous thoughts, but the idea of Edward and Alice together warranted that. Not that Alice would ever succumb to his temptations (or so he hoped) but Edward's gift made him a magnificent manipulator. Even with her devotion to Jasper, he may just find a way to weasel his way in.

"You're right," Edward interrupted as he stepped into the study.

"I am?" Jasper arched his eyebrows. Was he really about to confess to his less-than-savory practices?

Edward smiled wryly. "Alice would never leave you for someone else, no matter what. And I, most certainly, am not trying to play said seducer."

Jasper concentrated for a moment, working to see any trace of deceit or dishonesty in his words. There was none, surprisingly.

"You're surprised, yes, and I understand my actions may have been…taken the wrong way," Edward said, "but please, let me explain just what is going through my head that you cannot hear."

Jasper leaned back in his leather-bound chair, motioning for the man to go on. Whatever his excuse for behaving so around Jasper's fiancée had better be good.

"It is. Or, at least I think it is." Edward leaned against one of the other chairs, not bothering to sit down, and went on. "When I was brought into this family…or moreso, when this family was first created…there was only Carlisle and I. Our first feminine addition was Esme, and she was entirely Carlisle's. Even as a mother to me, her adoration belonged to him. They hoped for me to have that as well and brought along Rosalie. However, she and I…well, you've seen how we can be together."

Jasper smirked. Rosalie and Edward's tiffs were legendary.

"My mother loves me, but in a motherly, protecting way. Rosalie, on some small level, loves me as her brother, but in a way that means we tease and fight and behave as so many siblings do. And then you two came in. And I finally had a sister, a feminine companion, who understood how I felt and didn't smother me with her worries or take far too much pleasure in degrading me publically. Alice has been a breath of fresh air for me…a hope that this family is where I am supposed to be…even if I am the only one without a mate."

The last part was said with a hint of bitterness too it, and Jasper felt a pang of pity for him.

Edward shook his head. "None of that. If that is how it is to be, then…that's that. But I won't have your pity."

"Well enough," Jasper replied.

"What I _will_ have," Edward went on, "is your understanding that I am not here to steal your fiancée from you. I wouldn't want Alice under any circumstances. I love her, but only as my sister, and in that love is a desire to make her happy. And you are what does that. Only you."

Jasper felt relieved and ashamed all at once. How could he have imagined Alice would stray? And what would she say later after seeing him and Edward's conversation in her mind? Surely she'd be furious that he was treating one of their family members this way. Family was what mattered to her most, and –

"Alice has no idea we're speaking. I've had Esme keep her busy with fittings all afternoon. Her mind is too preoccupied, I should think." Edward smiled again here, a smile Jasper returned. Perhaps there was something alright about this Edward fellow.


	10. Voracious

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Voracious**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**voracious**_ (adj.): consuming or eager to consume great amounts of food; ravenous; having or marked by an insatiable appetite for an activity or pursuit; greedy.

* * *

It was getting to be too much for him. Most of the time, Jasper was used to the temptation. He had been dealing with it for over two hundred years, though he had only been abstaining from giving in for the last fifty. He knew what it was like. The fire in his throat, the overflow of venom filling his mouth, the itching all over his skin, the temptation to attack as soon as a sweet scent assailed his nose. It was the devotion to his family, to his wife, and to their way of life that kept him on the straight and narrow path. Perhaps there was a tinge of devotion to the sacred human life as well, but that was never the first thought that sprang to mind; that only came after Alice reminded him just what he was thinking of. Killing. Being a murderer. Again.

He had consumed so much blood over time that it had been strange at first to go without. His gift had been a large contributor towards his abstinence. With his empathic abilities, Jsaper was able to feel just what the human was going through as they lay dying. Even if his bite was swift and merciful, it was still a burning pain in the human's skin, and the fright and agony they experienced at the end began to make him feel sicker and sicker. And so he had quit. And she had made him strong.

But she wasn't there that day. He had continued on to Calgary College and she was still completing her senior year at Chapel Lake High School back home. He drove to campus every other day – and sometimes she would surprise him at the car before he left school to return home – but not having her next to him during those long hours of academia made the constant human exposure even more difficult. Even when he knew he shouldn't, he still had trouble quieting all his thoughts unless she was there. She knew, even without Edward's gift, just when his mind was straying to daydreams of biting, blood, and murder.

That was where he was going now, and he couldn't help himself. The boy in front of him usually sat at the back of the class – one of those jock types who had been forced to take Grammar 1301 to keep his scholarship and spent each class sleeping or doing crossword puzzles or not-so-secretly texting his next random hookup – but he had been late to class today, and the only available seat had been the second one in the far right row. The seat just in front of Jasper.

The boy had a thick sweater over his t-shirt. It was bright blue with yellow stripes and a zipper that ran from the neck to the chest (very American Eagle, Alice would have claimed derisively) and the heavy knitted fabric only seemed to intensify his scent. Jasper tried not to breathe for the longest time, but it was too much. He had to take it in. Just one whiff and…_oh…_

He was tempting. So very tempting. Jasper swallowed against the rush of venom that swelled in his mouth like a tidal wave and readjusted himself in his seat, pressing his body against the side of the hard little desk, trying to cause himself pain just to be a hurtful distraction. It didn't work; his body could barely feel the pinch. And so he closed his eyes, ignoring the boy and his scent and the professor lecture on the Oxford comma, and thought of the one thing that might have saved him

Alice, slipping from that stool in a nondescript diner in Philadelphia.

Alice, laughing in her white dress as they crowded into the getaway car after their wedding.

Alice, pins in her mouth as she hemmed a swatch of fabric on her dressform.

Alice, her face warm and sparkling in the sunlight, leaning over him moments after making love.

For her he could do this. He had lasted fifty years. With her, he would last fifty more. And fifty after that. And fifty thousand after that. Until the end of time.

Even with the mantra of Alice in his heart, Jasper was still beyond pleased when the class was dismissed. He left the room a little too fast, leaving a pair of girls near the door wondering just what had made him leave so quickly, but he didn't care. The fresh air would do him good. And once he was outside, it was so freeing and calming that he snuck into the woods behind the Thompson Building, letting himself have a congratulatory snack before heading to the car.

He had parked in the North Lot near the woods for this very reason; sometimes he just had to clear his head with a meal before heading home, especially if Alice wasn't going to be riding with him that day. And though she had said nothing about meeting him at the car and had given no hint to a surprise visit (as she, so awful with secrets, usually did), there Alice was, standing next to his car, her back towards him so that he could only reassure himself it was her by the darkness of her hair and the familiar curve of her body clad in dark jeans and a bright blue top. She turned his way slowly, her eyes meeting his, a strange, recalcitrant yet remorseful look in them. Her hands were clenched in front of her – no, clenched around a sweater that matched the same cerulean hue as her shirt. A sweater, blue with yellow stripes, that was still wrapped around a very dead young man.

She bit her lip and shrugged, letting the boy slip gently to the ground. "Ooops."


	11. Jealousy

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Jealousy**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**jealousy**_ (adj.): having to do with or arising from feelings of envy, apprehension, or bitterness; inclined to suspect rivalry.

* * *

It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was beaming, the winds carried a luscious scent, the birds were singing sweetly, and inside the Cullen household, one lonely person say at the window, staring out at the landscape below.

Edward Cullen was used to being left behind. His father had his work and Esme had her sewing and they both had each other. Rosalie and Emmett could barely keep their hands off one another. And while his parents' relationship was heart-warming and Rose and Emmett's was, frankly, disgustingly inappropriate, it was Alice and Jasper's connection that hurt Edward the most.

There was something special about the bond between his fortune-telling sister and her empathic husband. Something that even Edward, able to see above and beyond the ordinary mind, had trouble putting into words. Perhaps it was because he was so close to his sister. Knowing her the way he did and having such a familiarity between them made seeing her as Jasper's wife, his lifemate, his lover, slightly mind-boggling. Edward and Alice expressed their affection through humorous jabs and good-natured mind games. Alice and Jasper, on the other hand, showed their love in every movement, every touch. It was as if they were two planets orbiting the same sun, dancing in a complicated choreography organized solely by the heavens. Their love was mysterious, incomprehensible – and made Edward feel even more shut out from the family.

Why must he always be left behind? This summer would mark his 62nd birthday. He had been immortal for all but 17 of those many years, and alone for every single one of them. How long would it continue? Was he doomed to walk the earth a lonely soul, loved by none, slowly decaying until he was just a helpless shell and nothing more?

Edward reached for the small book he had been writing his poetry in, scribbling down the last few lines and ignoring Rosalie's thoughts from downstairs about how "embarrassing" it was to have "a beatnik for a brother." He was in no way a beatnik. Just because he wore black and wrote the occasional heart-wrenching poem to keep from exploding didn't mean anything. Rosalie was only shallow and self-minded and ignorant of anything that wasn't about her. His confused, envious feelings did not extend to her relationship with Emmett. Why on earth would he want to be with someone who cared more about her own appearance than for her husband?

Though, to be honest, it certainly sounded as if Emmett was pleased either way.

Edward shook his head to get rid of those thoughts; it was enough to have to listen to their bedroom romps. He didn't need to go over it once more. Settling more in his chair, Edward shut his book of poetry with a snap, leaning out towards the window and twitching the curtains back slightly.

The garden below was green, inviting, and he almost stood to walk downstairs – but paused when he realized the area was already occupied. A blanket, one of Esme's old patchwork quilts, had been spread over the clipped lawns, and on it Alice reclined, her summer cotton dress rucked high on her legs as she lay against the blanket. Her head was resting in the lap of her husband, and Jasper had his hands behind him to prop himself up into a sitting position. They were smiling and talking to each other about something. Alice turned her head away, running her fingertips over the nearby grass, then looked back up to her husband, saying something that Edward couldn't hear. It had been humorous, whatever it was, and Jasper tilted his head back in a heavy laugh that broke through the closed-tight window. Edward watched as Alice leaned up, pressing her lips to her husband's in a quick kiss – a kiss that was loving and gentle, but commonplace. Easy. Shared between them so frequently that there was nothing but love in it. No scheming, no unspoken wishes, no secrets. Just love. Their love. Private. Shared. Unreachable by him.

Edward let the curtain fall back over the scene and opened his book of poetry again.


	12. Juvenile

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Juvenile**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**juvenile**_ (n.): a young person; a child; (adj.) not fully grown or developed; marked by immaturity; childish.

* * *

"You're just too chicken."

"Excuse me?"

Emmett flapped his arms and grinned. "Nothing…chicken."

Jasper arched a solitary eyebrow. "Says the man who let himself get mauled by a little bear."

Emmett flexed his muscles, staring his brother in the eye. "Is that a challenge?"

"I thought _you _were the one challenging _me_, Emmett," Jasper reminded him loftily.

Now there was growling to add to Emmett's attempt at intimidation. "Fine. Let's get this started."

"You're on," Jasper countered.

"The terms?"

"Another bushel race."

"Then I'll win like last time."

"And you'll pay like last time too."

"Give me an hour to get the goods and we'll see."

They shook on it and parted ways, Emmett to his Jeep to drive for the provisions, Jasper to the backyard to take a warm-up run through the woods. The previous occasion they had attempted to solve a problem between the two of them with a bet, Emmett's right calf had nearly fallen off and Jasper had been given extreme chore duty for the next three months. This time wouldn't be nearly as rigorous – considering Jasper had promised he would never do that again, that Alice would see it before it happened, and that Rosalie would eat him alive if he indeed caused such pain to her husband yet again. So this time they'd be nicer. A bushel race wasn't nearly as dangerous as the bare-handed wrestling they had tried last time.

An hour later, Emmett returned to find Jasper geared up in sweatpants and a t-shirt, ready for battle on the back porch. A battle. Exactly what Emmett craved. A grin cracked his face as he hoisted his spoils onto the wrought iron table on the patio – two immense bushels of apples.

Jasper looked over the food with a careful eye. The apples were perfect; a pure, deep red, the skin taut and shiny, a forbidden fruit for a slightly forbidden task. Esme had been quite disappointed after the last time they had tried this, but back then it had been held inside the house, and she hadn't been pleased with their destruction.

"Ready, chicken?" Emmett asked, cracking his neck with a pop that made the windowpanes shake.

Jasper glared at his brother and nodded, tugging one of the bushels towards him on the table. "First one to finish wins. Get sick, you're out."

"Deal. Three…two…"

Before he could say one, Emmett dived into the bushel, grinning as he cheated his way through the first apple. Jasper was hot on his tail, consuming one, two, three, four apples, tossing the cores to the side. Emmett was ahead…Jasper caught up…they were tied neck and neck…

By the time Alice came out, they were both lying on their sides, small piles of apple core and regurgitated but undigested pieces of fruit scattered in the grass around them, the bushel baskets on the table, empty.

Emmett rolled over, facing his brother weakly as he held out his palm. "Truce?"

Jasper groaned and nodded, clutching his stomach with one hand and reaching out to shake with the other. "Truce."

Alice rolled her eyes and headed back into the house with a derisive mutter. "_Boys_."


	13. Wood

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Wood**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**wood**_ (n.): the secondary xylem of trees and shrubs, lying beneath the bark and consisting largely of cellulose and lignin; a dense growth of trees or underbrush covering a relatively small or confined area; a forest.

* * *

Hunting was a family affair. Whenever the Cullens went out for their meals, they traveled in packs, usually in a group of three or more. There was safety in numbers, to be sure. Alice could find their prey with ease or tell them if trouble was coming, Edward could hear the thoughts of any nearby humans who might bring danger upon themselves or the family, and Jasper could sway the thoughts of any of those humans who got too close. The others had their talents as well – Bella offering protection from any animal that got too wild, Carlisle knowing the tracking habits of their prey – and so they stayed in a group to hunt, relying on each other and making it an outing for them all.

There were, however, times when the family would be separated, and the hunter would travel out alone. This was usually only when the thirst was so great it could hardly be ignored. For Jasper, this was the case. His chem lab partner was far too tempting for her own good, and sixth period always ended with him running to the car just to get away from her scent. That afternoon, Jasper had nearly run down the teacher in his attempt to get out of the classroom and knew as soon as he got home he would have to immediately head to the woods. The BMW was a waiting beacon, and though no one was yet there, Jasper immediately slipped into the passenger seat, eager to leave as soon as he could.

Alice must have seen that something was up and came quickly to the car, slipping into the driver's seat without a word and starting the engine.

"Rosalie gave me the keys," she said for an explanation as she backed out of the space. "So, hunting it is, then?"

Jasper nodded, cracking his knuckles tensely as they sped from the lot. He was tense, to be sure, but Alice had made it much more bearable. She seemed to know exactly what he needed without him having to say – or even without her having to use her gift. It was pure instinct. Her love for him drawing her to the right answer. And he was more than thankful for it.

"The others…" Jasper murmured, realizing they had only taken one car to school that morning.

"Will walk," she answered and headed down a road that would take them away from their house. He didn't bother to ask; she knew what she was doing.

They drove further down the road, Jasper taking the time to catch his breath and clear his lungs, Alice focused on the steering wheel, save for the hand she offered to him that he took gratefully. After a few minutes of zipping along the highway, Alice pulled off onto the shoulder, parking the car and slipping out the door. Jasper followed silently, knowing she was leading him on to something good. He prayed it was a large, slow-moving animal. He was in a mood to be ferocious.

Alice was the first to take off into the woods, her step as light and swift as a gazelle. Jasper was quick behind her, a cheetah stalking the jungle. And so they progressed, Alice leading the way until they came upon just what she had been searching for.

A pair of bears, fresh out of hibernation, lumbering slowly and sleepily through the woods. Alice didn't bother jumping for them, instead gesturing forward and allowing Jasper to partake on his own. With a grateful smile and a swallow of venom, he pounced…

Alice stood to the side, watching as her husband quickly drained the bears dry. Yet even when he had finished, the beast inside of him was still pacing, feral and hungry, but no longer for blood. They could both feel the spark within him light as their eyes met, and Alice grinned wickedly before running off through the wood.

Once again, the cheetah set out after his prey, but this time there would be a very different feast.


	14. Mirror

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Mirror**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**mirror**_(n.): a surface capable of reflecting sufficient undiffused light to form an image of an object placed in front of it; something that faithfully reflects or gives a true picture of something else.

* * *

The newborn's stare was of fire, her eyes scarlet red, blazing with anger, fear, hunger. Even with her short, dark hair hanging over her face, her stare still pierced through, locked on Bella at the edge of the clearing even as Jasper held her back by sheer force of will. Bella herself was half-hiding behind Edward – or rather, Edward was standing in front of her with his arms outstretched – and as the wind stirred and blew a flurry of freesia-scented flakes towards the newborn, the red-eyed girl gave a pitiful moan and lunged forward. Jasper's gift weakened her and she barely budged, letting out an angry growl to replace the series of whimpers she had been emitting before. Jasper growled in return, a terrifying noise low in his throat. He had dealt with these newborn types so many times before, it was easy to lose himself in his anger. But Carlisle was there, putting his arm on him to ease him back to the present, and to focus upon the shivering newborn girl before them.

"Have you changed your mind, young one?" he asked calmly, his stare boring into her. "We don't want to destroy you, but we will if you can't control yourself."

The girl jerked back and forth against Jasper's unseen grasp, her eyes fluttering and her mouth half-open as if to catch a taste upon the air.

"How can you stand it? I want her," she groaned, baring her teeth in a predatory fashion. Her tone was beseeching, hungry, and forceful all at once.

Jasper knew exactly how she felt.

Not just because of his gift. True, he could indeed feel every thrumming of her bloodlust, every jerk of annoyance at the denial. But what he felt more was the echo of those feelings in his own body. A remembrance of all the blood he had consumed over the years, all the freewheeling gorging he had partaken of, how when he had chosen to give up on drinking it hadn't been too difficult – but when it was outright denied him, that was almost unbearable. He had given in to temptation many a time, just because the forbidden fruit tasted the sweetest.

And Bella was the most forbidden fruit of all.

He had almost had her, that one time. That moment when, by chance, she had that horrible yet glorious injury in the living room, her blood spilt by accident, the lure much too great, the scent making his throat burn like a fire…

He was salivating just thinking about it.

When the rare time occurred that he was left entirely alone in the house, he occasionally went to the living room to find that patch of carpet where Bella had lain, her arm seeping red onto the floor while Edward threw Jasper back into the piano. The pain of hitting the instrument had been nothing compared to the blazing hunger in him at that moment. Edward was right; she was a delicious being, rating with only a few dozen humans he had consumed in his past. And still sometimes, Jasper would curl up near that patch of carpet where her blood had pooled, imagining that, even under all that bleach Esme had poured, he could somehow still catch that scent. Take it. Survive on it. Grow stronger from it, so he might not kill the girl who would be his sister.

The girl grew still as the Volturi entered the clearing; they all did. Had Jasper been alone, their appearance would not have sparked his fancy in the slightest. He had seen it all before, many a time, the Volturi entering the battlefield to provide swift justice in the form of even more casualties. But Alice was here, his Alice, and even if it was something he had seen before, he wasn't going to let her see it. Taking a page from Edward's book, Jasper stepped in front of his small wife, shielding her body from the supposed protectors who had arrived to 'help.' Alice squeezed his hand…and edged out from behind him, standing to his side instead; it was a small movement, silently saying that she could handle herself. It made him love her more, though a flicker of worry still went through him.

He was not surprised when Jane had her fun with the newborn. Nor was he surprised when the girl's life was swiftly ended. He was, however, slightly taken aback when the group let Bella go so easily, with only the mere promise of her upcoming change to satisfy them, to keep them from spilling her blood onto the forest floor.

He was only a trifle disappointed.


	15. Plea

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Plea**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**plea**_ (n.): an earnest request; an appeal; an excuse; a pretext.

* * *

Their room was yellow, and it was lovely. Alice had chosen the saffron color after months of indecision and had sewn up all the linens herself, though Esme had helped a great deal with the king-sized raw silk duvet. Jasper had said that was a tad bit extravagant, but they were, after all, a family with their own island. Extravagance was normality. And so the raw silk duvet was to be had, as well as the Egyptian cotton sheets underneath with the tiny orange-y yellow stripes woven into the white fabric. That same orange-y yellow, a color Alice had dubbed _Sailor's Delight_, was reflected in the stripes on the mostly-saffron curtains as well as in the throw pillows on the bed and the chaise. And though Alice had seen the cutest display in a Manhattan ladies boutique that used pale pink and black stripes of various sizes, she kept with her theme of saffron and _Sailor's Delight_ for her dressing room, promising to utilize the pink-and-black scheme during the next round of decorating. Until then, she was satisfied with the pretty color. It was reminiscent of the buttery shade their first bedroom had been done in, but deeper, more glamorous. It was a bright and tangy yellow, somewhat like early morning sunshine, a sunshine she could stand in without fear.

It would be heartbreaking to leave it behind.

"Quickly, Jasper," Alice hissed, tugging on her thickest boots and zipping up her North Face jacket – which, ugly as it was, would probably be fairly useful, swimming around the Pacific coast.

Jasper continued flipping through his stacks of envelopes, finding the last letter Peter and Charlotte had sent, hoping that the address there might provide them with a lead. He zipped it inside the pocket of his jacket before grabbing a knitted cap from the shelf and tugging it over his blond head.

"And you're sure this is what we're meant to do?" he asked, his voice only slightly nervous. Through time, he had learned to trust his wife's instincts, but when they could potentially mean death for them or their family…

"We'll die if we don't," she murmured. "We only stand a chance if we try, and we only can try if we hurry. Come on." She held out a gloved hand to him. "Trust me."

He wished there was time to say _Always_, but there wasn't. Instead, he took her hand and followed her to the window, easing himself carefully out, jumping to the ground floor noiselessly and reaching up to catch Alice as she fell. They both paused in the darkness behind the house, looking in on the scene within.

Jacob had arrived and was looking just as tense as everyone else. Soon they would realize what had happened. They would find they had been abandoned. But no, not truly. They were going on to do something important. Something that had to be done.

"We need to deter them from the scent," Jasper said as they backed away from the house, careful not to disturb the bracken on the ground and give themselves away. "We need time to escape. Time that they'll need to search."

Alice nodded. "You spread the scent. Give me a minute." She jerked her head towards the cottage nestled back against the woods – Edward and Bella's makeshift home. Jasper nodded his assent and ran off, leaving a path of himself behind as he went. Alice snuck quickly into the cottage, trying desperately to find some paper somewhere, something to write with, something to write on…_God damn, who doesn't keep a notebook in a house?_ After a few frantic seconds of searching, she cast her mind about, seeing whatever it is that she might use. A book. Small. Shakespeare.

_The Merchant of Venice_ was in her palm in a minute. Alice ripped out the copyright page, scrawling their goodbye letter quickly and slipping it into her pocket, pushing the book back onto the shelf. Sam would know what to do with the note…provided that he let them cross their territory. The family would know what they had left to do. They would understand.

Or would they?

After a moment of hesitation, Alice pulled _The Merchant of Venice_ back, choosing a page at random and writing down Jenks' information from rote, then two words directly above it, two oh-so-important words despite their shortness. Alice pressed her lips to the cover as she closed it, hoping beyond hope that Bella would be the first to find it. She was a clever girl, even for a newborn. She would know. She had to.

Jasper was at the door, looking anxious. "Alice, come. It's time."

She nodded and put the book back once again, taking her husband's hand and running away…praying that it would be the very last time.


	16. Soft

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Soft**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**soft**_ (adj.): easily molded, cut, or worked; smooth or fine to the touch, not loud, harsh, or irritating; of a gentle disposition; affectionate; attracted or emotionally involved.

* * *

She liked to pretend to sleep after they made love. He realized that around the third time they had done so, that she would curl up against him in the moments after they arched through orgasm, closing her eyes and slowing her breathing until she was almost as still as a corpse, resting for sometimes a solid hour until her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him, almost shyly, always loving.

Was that how she had her visions, he wondered? Maybe she was figuring out her day, trying to see what would be best to do and what might lead to harm. Or maybe she was just attempting to gain that long-abandoned rest none of their kind had had since the change.

He asked her about it one morning when she 'woke up,' waiting to hear what fascinating reason she had for playing at sleep. It was not as fascinating as he had hoped; she merely explained that it helped her feel more human. It was a game she liked to play, pretending to be mortal. Her human life was something she couldn't remember no matter how long or hard she tried, and the pretending helped her to feel closer to the time when she had been living, even though she could not recall it. He smiled and kissed her then, telling her he loved her just the way she was. A fragrant scent bloomed from her then and she kissed him once more, deeper, more passionate, and soon they were back to the play they knew so well…

She 'slept' after that time too, her face resting on his chest, her breasts pressed softly into his side, her stomach against the bed. He ran his hands up and down the smooth skin of her back, pushing the covers there further down to bare her skin more, until he could see the swirling dimples above the gentle slope of her rear. She was absolutely beautiful – and not just to him. He had seen the men stare whenever they went out. With her porcelain skin and big honeyed eyes and lithe, babydoll body, men couldn't help but salivate for her. Yet here she was, in his arms, belonging to him.

He rubbed the palm of his hand against her back, marveling as the smooth marble feel of her skin. He hadn't had a true human touch in so very long before her…and she was so very trusting and loving to let him get this close. There were times he felt like a monster before her purity – most especially when he touched her bare skin. She was soft, white, immaculate, perfect. And he…he was scarred. Inside and out.

A small hand caressed his cheek, turning his face down. She had 'woken,' apparently, and was resting her chin against his left pectoral, staring up at him expectantly.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked, her voice half-tease and half-worry.

He couldn't think of much else to say but, "I love you." It was a simple expression, one people everywhere said every day, but it meant so very much to him. It had only been a short time since they had first said it that Christmas Eve, and the phrase still contained all the magic and thrall it had held that very first time. And so she smiled and said it in return, tilting her head up to kiss his neck, right where the worst patch of scars was. On purpose or accident, Jasper wasn't sure. But he was immediately settled, calm in her arms, happy once more to be stroking the smooth skin of his beloved on a cold Sunday morning in bed.


	17. Walls

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Walls**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**Wall**_ (n.): an upright structure of masonry, wood, or plaster or other building material serving to enclose, divide, or protect an area, especially a vertical construction forming an inner partition or exterior siding of a building; something resembling a wall in impenetrability and strength; an extreme or desperate condition or position, such as defeat or ruin.

* * *

She was mad. She was and she wanted everyone to know, making sure her boots landed with a weighty _thunk _on each stairs as she went up them. Of course, as soon as her delicate, heeled black suede boot landed, another boot – a thick, sturdy, brown leather cowboy boot – sounded a few steps behind her, the pace even louder and angrier than her own. He was right behind her and just as mad. Given the words they had shouted at each other in the car, she didn't blame him for being upset. She did, however, blame him for being an absolutely inhumane dickhead.

The house wasn't empty, and they were both probably making fools of themselves, and she could already see that, sooner or later, they would apologize and feel awful for their rash tempers, but for now she would be angry. And so she stomped down the hall, getting to their room first, just a few quick steps before him. Jasper tried to edge in, but she was too quick. Alice shot him the most furious glare she could muster before throwing the door shut, slamming it in his face.

Served him right. How could he possibly say the things he had said? Insinuate that meaning? Admit that he thought _she_, his _wife_, was wrong? She had seen what she had to do! She had done it partially for him, for God's sake! Didn't he understand that she had to? That being born with a gift such as hers meant she had to use it? If she had let that human girl step off the curb, there would have been a body, a police report, a driver going to jail, and a husband who might very well have dove onto the blood spilt in a decidedly in human manner. She had done the right thing by stopping it all.

But _noooo_, not according to him! In the words of the mighty, all-seeing Jasper Whitlock, she had "overstepped her bounds." She had "intervened with fate," "stopped the proper lifespan," yadda yadda yadda. Yes, they had promised to Carlisle that, after the issue with Bella and the van, they wouldn't interfere with the saving of another human, that it wasn't their place to get mixed up in such fragile lives. But this was a stranger! It wasn't like she was going to have another brother fall in love with the girl. And for crying out loud, it wasn't as if she stopped the oncoming car in its tracks. She only bumped against the girl so she tripped onto the grass. Nothing more. No harm, no foul, as Emmett would have phrased it.

Yet still here she was, alone in her bedroom, her mind and conscience at odds with her husband's, a position she was in very rarely. An argument between them did not happen often, and it hurt worse than anything when it did. And of course there was the added sting of knowing herself to be right. He was wrong. He had no feelings for that girl, for the human race entire; how could she expect him to feel for her point of view if he didn't care for so many lives? She wasn't asking to go out and be Saint Alice. She only wanted to be understood for what she had done. And he refused.

Refused. Ugh. Angry, Alice kicked out at the leg of the stool before her dressing table, splintering it into many pieces. The stool toppled over and lay on its side. She left it there, focusing her glaring eyes on it as she slid down the wall to sit on the floor, pulling her knees in tight and hugging them with her arms. She leaned her head back, knocking gently into the wall and sighing heavily.

On the other side of the door, in the hallway, she could hear a mirrored sigh. Jasper. He sat out there in the hall, waiting for her. To come out of the room? To apologize? To prove that he was right?

Absolutely not. She could stay in this room for an awful long time. She had hunted just yesterday and could probably make it two, maybe even three weeks before having to go out again. Yes, she could and _would_ stay in this room. Until he apologized. For as long as it took.

Eight days later, when he finally rose up from his place in the hallway, he found her still there in the room, still stubbornly hugging her knees to her chest, his favorite shirt wrapped around her body as she waited for his apology


	18. Sky

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Sky**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**sky**_ (n.): the expanse of air over any give point on the earth; the highest level or degree.

* * *

Alice had wandered a great deal in her first twenty or so years of consciousness. Finding herself in the swampy woods of Mississippi, heading along the eastern seaboard to figure out just what she was and what her reason for being was, her decision to head north, to the shadows, to him. And then their journey together, side by side, until they had come to live a somewhat settled life in the plains of Wyoming. In all the places she had visited, lived, and stayed in, nothing was like Ten Sleep.

All the places they had been before – Boston, Atlantic City, Philadelphia – had been overcrowded, teeming with people, a danger to themselves and the humans around them. The streets had been peppered with buildings and cars and business. Here, in the town where 'sleep' was a part of the name, life had slowed down. It was a treat to see one other person on any given day, considering how far apart everyone lived. Alice and Jasper had their own little homestead, a small ranch house on a large plot of land where they could farm and Jasper could ride his horse and Alice could sit back to watch him with a smile on her face.

That was one of her favorite things to do; watch Jasper in his element. She knew of his past as a Texan and had daydreamed about it here and there, but to see him truly in the role, riding astride the roan mare that had come with the ranch, the Stetson he had been so excited to buy pushed back on his forehead, was something new and exciting. He looked so gallant and strong as he rode through the fields, and the horse moved with such grace and power – she really wasn't such an awful animal so long as she stayed away from Alice.

Sometimes Jasper would ride too far for her to see him, and she would lean back against the porch steps then, staring up into the sky and watching the clouds pass. Ten Sleep was overcast most of the time – their main reasoning for moving there – but there were days when the sun would peer through, casting the ranch in a buttery yellow glow that almost warmed her skin. She liked to imagine then that she was any normal housewife, baking brown in the sun, , staring at the wideness of the sky above and waiting for her husband to come back to the house below.

Sometimes Jasper would come home to catch her staring, especially if he returned after nightfall. Those days that were clear were followed by nights of the same, and they would spend those evenings curled up together on the porch, staring up at the stars, counting constellations until they had finished them all and used the remaining sky as a blanket to make love under.

It was a near-perfect life, their time alone as faux husband-and-wife, a time that could only be made better with the addition of an extended family. And when they found them, in a town as small and slow as Ten Sleep, Alice tilted her head to the sky and thanked the stars that had watched her, brought her there, to them, to him, and to herself.


	19. Touch

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Touch**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**touch**_ (n.): to cause or permit a part of the body, especially the hand or fingers, to come in contact with so as to feel; to meet without going beyond; adjoin.

* * *

Even before Alice met him, she knew his touch. It was there in that very first vision – his smile, his hand on her cheek, a quick flash of the future where he would hover over her with such a look in his eyes that she knew she had to find him. She didn't understand yet what he would be to her – until she had another taste of his touch, the vision of his hand in hers, his thumb rubbing over his skin in small, comforting circles. It was silly, that something so commonplace would cement him in her heart, especially before she had even had a chance to meet him.

But then she did meet him. And she held out her hand, and he took it without a murmur, and they went on from there.

It was his touch that grounded her always. No matter what was going on in their lives or in the lives of their family, he was always there, his hand in hers or his arms around her. It was a constant comfort and respite from the stresses of their immortal life to have him to go to, to have simple skin-to-skin contact be the thing that could settle her mind and her heart.

She realized early on after waking that her visions set her apart. Alice lived almost entirely in her head those first few years alone – especially to see the blond boy whose face so crowded her thoughts – and while it helped her to understand what was happening, what would happen, it made her very, very different from the others of her kind she happened to meet along the way. They were, for the most part, brazen, bold creatures who did as they pleased, consumed who they wanted, and went wherever fancy took them. Alice had a purpose. She knew what she had to do. Follow the guidelines she didn't quite understand and stick to drinking from animals, find the man who encompassed her mind. It was simple. Difficult as hell, but simple.

And so, with her thoughts to guide her, she set out. And with her thoughts to help her, she found him. And with another vision in hand, they found them, and they became a family. Yet, even with her family around her and her husband at her side, she still was focused very much internally, using her mind to protect those she loved and to help ease the burden of the unnatural lives. It sometimes grew to be too much, especially in those times of trial that had arisen as of late.

It was then that his touch was needed. Sometimes he felt that strain come upon her and knew all he had to do was take her hand in his and, even without using his gift, calm her for a moment. It was a small favor to ask, one he was happy to oblige and that he took pleasure in as well. It sometimes made her laugh; she, a girl who had the entire knowledge of the world at her fingertips, felt solace only in his. Perhaps that was the fate behind it. Somewhere, some being was looking out for her, helping her to find him, knowing he would be the key not only to her happiness but to the freedom from her burdens as well. When that thought arose, she prayed…thanking whoever it was that had given him to her, hoping she might never lose him. Because losing him, losing his touch, would surely mean losing herself.


	20. Light

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Light**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**light**_ (n): electromagnetic radiation of any wavelength; the sensation of perceiving light; brightness; the illumination derived from a source of light; (v): to set on fire; to enliven or animate; (adj): to burn, be ignited, or kindled; bright.

* * *

He had very much wanted to be alone. It was something he had always requested when he had slipped up. Perhaps requested was the wrong word. The first time it had happened after becoming part of the family, Jasper had left quickly and quietly with the sound of his wife's sobs in his ears as Edward held her back from running after him. But he had returned. Just as he had each time after slipping.

It was always the same. Jasper would find himself too engrossed in a human to give any thought to anything else. Maybe it was an intoxicating scent. Or a person much too tempting to give up. A female who bravely eyed him in public, her body exuding promise – a promise far different from the one he understood. Occasionally it was to help someone. The family, or someone close. A quick bite was all it took to keep their story simple or their identities quiet. And as soon as that first bite was made, that was it. The scent of blood was in the air, and he was an animal tearing through prey. Any exposure to blood would bring him so very, very close to the brink. A child's skinned knee, a female classmate's monthly course, a simple paper cut on a birthday card. And so he had slipped up again.

No. That was no way to refer to what had just happened. He had ruined things, ruined them entirely. He hadn't been thinking of anything but a human body teeming with blood. Blood for him. Jasper began to salivate again just at the thought and shook his head to stop. It wasn't right. It was Bella he was thinking of killing. Bella. Edward's Bella. The girl who had eased him from the self-inflicted burrow of loneliness he had occupied ever since Jasper had known him. They all owed her so much for bringing such light and happiness to their brother and son. And now…here Jasper was, fucking it all up. One simple paper cut, a few broken plates, and he became a monster.

What would happen now? Surely Edward would be beyond furious. Would he ever allow Jasper to come near the girl again? Perhaps it was a good thing, considering just how nice she did smell. It was like putting a plate of meat in front of a starving man and telling him he couldn't touch it whenever Bella was in the house. His one anchor to keep him from attacking her before – and the thing that brought the wracking of guilt now – was the love he had for his family, especially her. His Alice. She was the only person who could send him shooting down into the depths of sorrow or lifted high into euphoria with a simple look. She was the incandescence in his previously dark life, the one who made him want to be good, for her sake and for the sake of the family she so loved. And here he was, screwing it all up all over again, ignoring even she for just a taste of succulence.

He had run off the moment Emmett and Rosalie had wrangled him, snorting and struggling like a caged bull, from the house. The tradition lasted, even now, of his leaving to clear his head after yet another accident. He hadn't gone far this time – his furthest record had been running to the Yukon Territory after that boy in the park in Michigan – but had just wandered the woods behind the house, taking down three deer to satiate his bloodlust. And now he waited, resting on a stump some eight leagues into the forest, wondering when Edward might be able to look him in the eye.

There was no sound as she approached. He knew her only by her presence – the aroma of a flower he could never quite place but would have bought by the bushel if he had found it, the sudden feeling of upset and shame softly underscored by the constant unfailing love he knew and reciprocated and cherished. He turned, craning his neck over his shoulder…and surely enough, there she was, still in the dark gown she had worn to the party, the ruby heart pendant he had given her one long-ago Christmas nestled in the hollow of her throat, standing in an opening in the copse of trees with the first beams of dawn hitting her front behind. She looked almost like an angle in the early morning light, a blessing sent to guide him back to the path of righteousness and good. To make him toe the line. Perhaps this time he could really do it.

She walked slowly, not bothering to keep silent now, leaves crunching and giving way underneath the glossy jet heels he had so admired on her before the party. The party he had ruined.

"Oh, Jazz."

Two words, and a little upset look on her face – upset at what he had done? at his guilt? – and he was putty. The air that had lain stagnant in his lungs for hours rushed out, and he curled his body into himself, putting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, prepared to wait all of eternity on this stump if she truly was displeased with him.

Small hands snuck under his, tilting his face up, and a pair of cool, soft lips pressed onto his forehead. No, not displeasure. At least not to the extent he had worried about.

"Forgive me," he murmured against her palm. She graced her thumb over his lips, pulling them apart slightly, before securing her fingers under his chin and tilting his head up, making eye contact with him for the first time since he had… "Please forgive me," he repeated.

"It's not my forgiveness to give," Alice replied gently. "I love you no matter what. There are others you need to speak to."

Jasper sighed. "If he'll let me come near him, that is. He isn't going to let her out of his sight now, is he?"

Alice's eyes suddenly clouded over, turning dark in a flash, and she looked away, bringing her hands down and then curling them around her stomach, protecting herself.

"Alice?" He called out to her, worried what he had said or done to cause this reaction. It was bad enough he had tried to eat her best friend; now he was screwing things over in an entirely new way.

Alice looked back at him, her face resolute, and said matter-of-factly, "He's going to leave her."

"Leave…?" Jasper repeated uncertainly. Edward…leave Bella? The girl who had so lightened his life? Who had brought something to him that no one else had or could?

She nodded. "He doesn't want her getting hurt anymore. He's certain she'll meet her doom at our hands if they're together."

"But how can he just abandon her like that? He loves her!"

"You've done it."

The words stung, true as they were, and Jasper couldn't hide the flicker of pain that crossed his features.

"I didn't mean it like that," Alice murmured, reaching out for his hands. "I only meant…you understand going away to protect us. Me. But you came back, every time, just like you're going to come back now. He's insisting…he's insisting he won't."

"Can you see…?"

"He doesn't want me too. And right now…no. This is it."

The sun had fully risen over the horizon now, and the beams were peering through the slats of the trees, casting a dappled shadow on the forest floor and the two occupants inside.

"I'm going to go back," Alice announced gently. "We need to start packing."

"We're _all _leaving?" Jasper asked, slightly incredulously, rising to his feet from the stump. Whenever he left, it had been him alone. He had chosen when to go and when to return and had let no one get in his way – save for the image of Alice that never ceased to leave his mind. Though now, perhaps since Edward refused to believe he would return for her, an entire break was necessary.

"We're family," she said simply, an explanation in two words. "Come home when you're ready. It'll take me an hour just to box up my dresses."

Her attempt at humor was weak and only slightly lifting. "Alice…he won't be able to do it," he said, hoping he could lift her spirits in his own way. He had gone through the same thing not so long ago, leaving the one he loved to save her, to give her a better life – or so he thought.

"Will he?" Alice's voice was hopeful and questioning of the future, something it had never been in all the time he had known her.

"That first time…I thought perhaps I would stay away. For good. To let you have the life you dreamed of and not have to worry about someone with my past and my penchant for slipping up and everything. But…I loved you too much to ever do that. Even if you had been entirely happy without me, I would have come back, to try to win you over again. And…so will he. In time."

Alice said nothing in reply, just wrapped her arms around his middle, hugging herself tightly to him. Jasper bent his head down, breathing that unplaceable scent in deep, then turned, walking back to the house with her, their arms around each other, the sun rising higher before being taken over by cloud cover.


	21. Retribution

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Retribution**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**retribution**_ (n.): something justly deserved; something given or demanded in repayment, especially punishment.

* * *

The letter came on a Tuesday afternoon. Tuesday, November 18th, 2020. An ordinary, nondescript day. Rosalie had picked up and sorted the mail, sliding it into the small baskets Esme had placed near the hall tree to organize the various recipients' post. Carlisle was at the hospital for afternoon rounds and would not be there to sort through his letters until later. Emmett gleefully unwrapped the slightly-pirated video game he had had shipped in from Japan and ran off to play shortly after Rosalie had sorted through it all. Edward took his new sheet music into the parlor to practice with Bella and Alice following, the girls sitting on the sofa to finish their shared calculus homework while Edward soared through in a minor key. Esme took the bills to her desk and paid each one promptly. And for Jasper, there was one solitary letter, a small, thin envelope that he brought to his study and slit open with his penknife, standing to read it.

He didn't recognize the handwriting at first, though he berated himself for not doing so later. It was an untidy, scratchy scrawl, and Jasper wondered silently who would be sending him a personally written letter when there was no new business or upcoming events to discuss. But then there was the salutation.

_Dear Major_ –

In his life, only three people had called him 'Major.' Two he still counted as friends, one other the woman who had so disrupted his life that he knew her to be his greatest enemy. He read on, hoping that she hadn't tracked him down, thinking of the consequences that would occur if she had.

_Charlotte and I are, for now, residing in Vancouver_.

Jasper breathed a small sigh of relief. It wasn't from her. Peter, his old friend, was the correspondent, and he could read on in peace. It was a short letter and wouldn't take too much time, and he stayed standing as he continued.

_We're near the university, a lovely area with a shady park and throngs of twenty-something students who don't often pay attention to their surroundings._

He could almost hear the sardonic tone in his friend's writing, and he cracked a small smile before going on.

_It's been a welcome change from the heat of the south, where we have just returned from after a visit to our long-forgotten home_.

Home? Was Peter truly meaning he had gone back to see her? The woman who had held them as little more than captives, who had nearly killed Charlotte, who had almost wiped out the entire vampire population of the southwestern United States?

_Charlotte wanted to pay her respects after catching word of our fallen leader._

Fallen…?

_Some two weeks ago, a traveler who learned our story explained that the battalion leader Maria Vega had been destroyed by a messenger dispatched from the Volturi after leading a rampage near the Rio Grande._

Oh, God…

_I know you, my empathetic friend, have always had trouble regaining yourself from that life long-passed, and I hope that, now that she has passed, you may find yourself ready to start anew entirely. Charlotte sends her love, and we both hope to see you soon. It has been far too long, Major. Until we do, I remain your faithful friend, Peter_.

Maria. Dead. At long last. And here he was, still alive, with his family, happy, free. Jasper fought the sudden urge to vomit.

Questions raced through his head. Had she rebuilt her army as she had so longed to the last time he saw her? Who had been the messenger who had delivered her death? Was it Aro? A lesser immortal sent only for convenience?

And why hadn't _he_ been the one to end her life?

It was a sickening thought, one that made him wracked with guilt as soon as he conjured it up. But it was true. Since the moment he had left Maria's coven, he had dreamt of the day he might be the one to avenge the pain she had caused to countless vampires, pain _he_ had the misfortune to feel reflected back upon him. He wanted to make her suffer just as he had, make her feel the hurt for a long time before finally doing away with her, granting her the release of death he would only give into after a lengthy and torturous session.

It was gruesome. Sadistic. And yes, there was a lot of schadenfreud-ish pleasure associated with the thought, but it was the closure he had wanted. And now he would never get it. Tossing the letter into the trash bin, Jasper sunk down into his seat, leaning his head back against the cool leather and sighing heavily.

"Jazz?" Alice was posed in the doorway, her head cocked to the side in questioning. He didn't say anything in response, nor did he have to. She crossed the room in two steps, alighting in his lap like a kitten, curling up against him, giving him the comfort he needed to remind himself that, yes, he was still a functioning person and not an entirely sadistic beast, as well at that life would still go on without his opportunity for revenge.

Alice knew something was up, even if she couldn't pinpoint it, and she glanced up into his eyes, stroking the side of his face with her hand.

He sighed before speaking. "Maria's dead."

Two words that hung in the air like a knell. And she understood entirely.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He paused to think. Did he want to talk about it? And if he did, could he handle seeing the hurt in her eyes when he admitted what he had wanted to do?

"Jazz."

Alice's voice was slightly forceful, commanding him to look at her. Their eyes met, his worried, hers caring, loving, everything he needed them to be.

"Whatever you're thinking…I will still love you. No matter what. Okay?"

He nodded. "Okay."

She smiled gently and pressed her forehead to his, and it was enough.


	22. Play

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Play**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **M**

* * *

_**play**_ (v.): to occupy oneself in amusement, sport, or other recreation; to take part in a game; to act in jest or sport; to deal or behave carelessly, toy; to perform or act; (n.): activity engaged in for enjoyment or recreation.

* * *

Nearly there. He was nearly there. A few days away from the end of turning in his thesis, and he would have attained his doctorate. His fourth, but still nothing to be chided at. It would be his first in early American history, and he was exceptionally busy with the end of his writing. He had ordered the entire family to stay away for the next week, and had indeed gone two days without leaving his study. He realized Alice was upset, but she knew just how important this was to him. It had been this way with his previous theses too, and those had all gone over splendidly. He had only to stick to the plan this time around.

Of course, there was the occasional interruption. On the first day, Emmett had barged in to ask if he'd join in to toss the football around out back. Of course Jasper turned him down, and of course Emmett was annoyed, banging on the windows and distracting Jasper with his whining until Jasper ran to the window, made a rude gesture and let out a string of fairly foul words. Emmett had stood shocked for a moment before busting into laughter, holding up his hands in defeat as he returned to his game.

The wee morning hours between the first and second day, Rosalie had come in, asking for an academic eye on her psychology term paper. Given that Jasper's previous doctorate had been in that field, it made sense for him to take a look at it, but he had been at a particularly trying chapter of his own work and had shooed her off with a fairly snappy reply. Rosalie had huffed her way out of there, returning an hour later to snap at him – and try to get his help once more. Again, Jasper had fussed and shut the door, wondering for the fiftieth time why he had not insisted on having a lock.

And so, when four hours had passed and someone knocked at the door again, letting it open slightly, Jasper couldn't help himself from getting angry. A lock. He needed a damn lock, _this moment_.

"Honest to God, Rosalie, one more time and I'll –"

Jasper cut himself off at that. The door had swung fully open by then, revealing not Rosalie with her paper clutched tight in her hand but Alice, looking nervous and skittish – and dressed in a tiny plaid skirt and tight white top that set him stirring. He knew he ought to turn her away. He had work to do, tons of it, and it was all due in four days. He was on a tight schedule, even without needing sleep and…

"Yes, Alice?" His voice was hoarse and guttural as he spoke, lust he could not hide tinting it heavily.

She grinned – a wicked look on her pixieish face – and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. _Good Lord in Heaven_, there were knee socks too. Jasper swallowed hard and pressed his chair in close to his desk.

"Are you busy?" she asked, a little lilt to her voice that let him know just what she was after.

He was busy. Terribly busy. Terribly other things too, but shouldn't he ignore those until…

"No, not at the moment."

Her shoes clicked on the floorboards of his study as she came closer, moving around to his side of the desk and looking down at the words he had typed on his screen.

"So after you turn this in…you're going to try for the professorship, aren't you?" she asked as her fingertips grazed over his arm, making him shiver.

He nodded, swallowing hard again. What had happened to all the air in the room?

"You're going to have to get used to girls throwing themselves at you," Alice said matter-of-factly. "They'll all want good grades, and they'll do whatever they need to to get them."

"Yes…so I've heard," he murmured, trying very hard to keep his eyes on the screen or her hands or her face and not those thighs or her fantastic breasts.

Alice's mouth was very close to his ear when she whispered, "And are you going to give in, Professor Hale?"

Another shiver went through him. "I shouldn't…should I?"

She laughed huskily. "It depends on the situation, I suppose." She pushed the chair back slightly, easing between his body and the desk, leaning forward over him. Her hands settled on his shoulders and one knee came between his, dangerously close…

"What's the situation now, then?" he asked, tilting his head up to her. His lips were almost on her chin, barely brushing the softness of her skin.

She grinned. "Isn't it obvious? I'm trying to seduce you, Professor Hale."

That was it. He let out a long, shaky groan and allowed his hands to grasp around her thin waist.

She leaned down until her lips were hovering just over his, speaking soft and slow so her mouth brushed against him while she murmured, "Is it working?"

Jasper took one of her small hands, guiding it between his legs. She grinned again and squeezed gently, making his groan once more.

"Oh, I do believe it is…" Alice tilted her head down, running her lips over his neck, kissing and sucking as her fingers worked swiftly on his zipper. She reached in gently, cupping him in her smooth palm and –

"Jasper, don't you have just one second to –"

Both of them turned to the door, stopping short in their sexual play as Rosalie barged in, Emmett just behind her. The blonde was frozen in the doorway, her jaw dropped low, while Emmett, once again, had burst into a fit of laughter. Even Alice started snickering at the situation. Jasper, however, grabbed his desk lamp and tossed it at the door, missing Emmett's head by two inches.

"Have your fun," Emmett said with a grin.

"I'll…talk to you later," Rosalie added as they left.

Jasper groaned and hid his face in his wife's shoulder as the door was shut behind them.

"You know," Alice murmured, "you probably should buy a lock for that door."


	23. Stagnant

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Stagnant**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

~*~

_**stagnant **_(adj.): not moving or flowing; motionless; foul or stale from standing; showing little or no sign of activity or advancement; lacking vitality or briskness.

~*~

Once upon a time, long, long ago, Jasper had done something very stupid. To be truly honest, he had done a great many stupid things, both long ago and recently. But the one that was on his mind that day was the first time he had run away, two months before their wedding, ashamed of his nearly attacking a teacher and worrying he might never truly belong to the Cullen family. He had left, and quickly, without thinking much of what it would do to Alice, how she would manage to get along without him. He had assumed she would be fine, what with Edward and Esme and the rest to watch over her.

How wrong he had been. Upon his return – and after a severe beating from Emmett – Carlisle and Edward had let Jasper know just exactly how Alice had spent her time during his absence; alone, in bed, refusing to move to eat, drink, bathe, anything. She had become like a living corpse, cuddled into her side of the bed, watching over like a dying child by their family. That was how he had left her. To die, as much as she could. To go through life as if one dead.

It was exactly how he felt now.

When Alice had seen Bella drowning, she had gone quickly, hoping to both support Charlie through what would surely be the most difficult time in his life as well as to see with her own eyes the beautiful body their brother had once so loved. Perhaps if Edward could read Alice's thoughts, he would understand that what he had so feared had come to pass, and that he might return to the family once more.

But then the call came. Bella hadn't drowned at all. She was alive and well. Everything would be all right.

Until Rosalie went and screwed everything up.

It was his twin that he was most upset with. Rosalie, for her own gains, for her own selfish desires to have her brother back, had called Edward to inform him of his beloved's death. And because of that, he would destroy himself. And because of that, Alice would put herself in the line of fire. Rosalie's mistake would cause him his wife. And so he stood in the last place he had been upon hearing what Alice intended to do, the living room, with his cell phone clenched tightly in his hand and his eyes boring blankly into the wall ahead.

He was aware that the others had come in and out over the next few hours. Esme had sat near him for a while. Carlisle had paced back and forth through the room. Rosalie and Emmett had discussed a plan of action before going upstairs to their room, planning to catch the last flight out to go and help. Jasper was alone again – thankfully – when his phone rang.

"Hello?" He knew his voice was tense, upset, but he didn't bother to cover it up, no matter who it was.

"Hi, Jazz."

Jasper just about melted into the floor, but instead slipped onto the sofa, clutching his phone tightly.

"Alice," he murmured, taking a moment to breathe in her name before going on. "Where are you? What's going on?"

"We're on a plane," she replied. "Bella and I are going to keep him from…doing anything rash."

"Rash?" he repeated, knowing just what a destruction it would be to the family if they lost Edward. "Like what?"

"I can't be sure, I keep seeing him do different things. He keeps changing his mind."

"Like…?"

"A killing spree through the city, attacking the guard, lifting a car over his head in the main square…mostly things that would expose them. He knows that's the fastest way to force a reaction."

"Maybe we could stop him. All of us."

"No, you can't." Her voice was forceful and sure.

"Emmett thinks maybe he could hold him back from –"

"Tell Emmett no."

"He and Rosalie are going to the airport. They've already decided."

"Well, go after Emmett and Rosalie and bring them back."

"Alice, if this could be the way to stop him, shouldn't we all work together –"

"Think about it, Jasper. If he sees any of us, what do you think he will do?"

Jasper sighed. He didn't need Alice's gift to know. "He'll go through with it anyways."

"Exactly," she replied sadly. "I think Bella is the only chance – if there is a chance."

"There _is_ a chance," he insisted. "You have to make it work. The two of you."

"I'll do everything that can be done, but prepare Carlisle…the odds aren't good."

_The odds aren't good_. He knew just what she was saying without her having to utter it. Even if they managed to save Edward from outing himself as an immortal, he would already have angered them enough to place himself in danger. And if Edward was in danger…Alice would be in the line of fire as well.

"Alice, you're heading straight into Volterra. The odds…they aren't good for you either."

She laughed, a trifle bitterly, as if it were all some sort of crazy joke. "I've thought of that," she murmured.

Jasper's heart twisted suddenly and fell somewhere in the pit of his stomach. "Alice, you have to promise me you'll keep yourself safe."

"Yes, I promise." She was acquiescing, but he could tell it was with reluctance.

"Alice, I swear, if you do something stupid, I'm coming right after you and –"

"Don't follow me," she ordered, her tone suddenly all business. "I promise, Jasper. One way or another, I'll get out…And I love you."

He clung to those words with everything he had, worrying that perhaps he would never hear them again, never see her again, never hold her in his arms…

"I love you too," he somehow managed to utter.

He was glad when she hung up. She didn't say _Goodbye_. Or _I'll miss you_ or any other parting phrase that would make it all too real. It couldn't be real. And so for now, he would wait. She would come back to him. She promised.


	24. Worship

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Worship**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

~*~

_**worship**_ (n.): the reverent love and devotion accorded a deity, an idol, or a sacred object; the ceremonies, prayers, or other religious forms by which this love is expressed; (v.): to honor and love as a deity; to participate in religious rights of worship.

~*~

It had been a very long time since Jasper had been in the South, and an even longer time since he had been in a church. He had never felt quite right about stepping onto hallowed ground, given what he had become so very long ago. Perhaps he had righted his sins every so often, but he gave in to temptation far too much to be the good, God-fearing man his mortal mother had hoped to raise. But he had still dressed that morning in the dark suit Alice had laid out for him – the grey pinstripe that made him look not quite so pale, with a little green pocket square and jet-and-diamond cufflinks, only asking briefly if it was a bit too much for a Sunday morning.

"It's _church_," Alice replied as she slipped a strand of pearls around her neck. "Besides, people in Biloxi are fancier. Southern belles, don't you remember, _Major _Whitlock?" She herself was dressed in a pale peach slip dress with a small matching jacket, the color making her skin seem rosier and more human. They would blend in, as well as they could, and the dark, drizzly day would help them even more.

Jasper grinned. "Vaguely." He had the dreamy impression of genteel manners and soft dialects from his human days, a dialect he himself sometimes let slip, but as for belles…no, Texas was still very much a frontier when he had lived there. Biloxi, even in that time, would have been a settled town, and it had now grown into a fairly bustling city. Cities had been something Jasper had done his best to avoid. Yet here he was, readying to not only leave the safety of his hotel room to go into the city, but also heading towards a house of worship. For Alice.

He glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye. She looked lovely in peach, and the pearls set her tone off nicely, but her hands were trembling as she put in her earrings. Focusing hard – it was slightly difficult to affect her after all this time together – Jasper sent a slight helping rush of calm towards his wife. She put her earrings in easily and smiled at him.

"Thanks," she murmured, then stooped to grab her purse. "Are you ready to go?"

He nodded and helped her with her coat, checking to make sure the room and car keys were in his pocket before they left the hotel.

The church was only a short drive away – they had picked the Hilton for this very reason – but Alice kept clenching and unclenching her fists the entire way, a nervous habit she couldn't hide. After Jasper had parked the car and opened her door, he made sure to thread his hand through hers, hoping that a direct touch might help her more. She stopped clenching her hands to be sure, but continued nibbling on the bottom of her lip.

The couple slid into a pew in the middle of the church on the left side, and Jasper watched Alice as Alice watched everyone else. The church was a lovely building most noted in the town for its stained glass windows. Each window was painstakingly created to detail a special Biblical verse, and inscriptions dedicating the windows to their benefactors or the memory of a loved one were screwed into the wall at the base of each window. The dedication of a new window was a rarity and an event – and it was the reason Alice and Jasper had come in that day.

The dedication ceremony of a window in St. Augustine's Catholic Church was something to behold. It began with the proceeding of the benefactor (if they were alive) and the family (if they weren't), followed by a mass dedicated to the recipient of the window. Afterwards, there would be a grand gala thrown in the banquet hall, paid for by the family and attended by all of the church. It was a societal event to attend, and everyone in Biloxi looked forward to it with great anticipation.

Alice suddenly froze, and Jasper leaned over her to make sure she was alright. After coming back to him, she smiled anxiously. "It's time."

Both of them craned their heads back to the entrance of the church where the recipient of the newest window – depicting _The Lord is my Shepherd_ – was entering, escorted by her closest male relative, as was tradition. Given that she had neither husband nor children, Mary Brandon Dexter was brought to her seat in the front pew by her great-nephew once removed, a young man named Todd. He escorted her with great pride, both smiling as the congregation stood to applaud and continued to stand as the mass began.

Alice's hand was clenching Jasper's with such force that it almost hurt, and he could have felt the nerves and excitement coming from her even without his gift.

"That's her," Alice hissed, almost giddily grinning even as the priest passed. But who could blame her? Meeting the very first tie to her past, realizing that she did indeed have a human life, even if she couldn't remember it…Jasper merely smiled and let Alice stare contentedly at her last direct relative, her sister Cynthia's daughter Mary. Named so for the young Mary Alice who had so mysteriously passed in 1920.

The mass passed by in a blur of readings, hymns, and chanted prayers Jasper only half-remembered. The honored Ms. Dexter was allowed to exit first after the priest and altar boys, and Alice tugged Jasper down the aisle shortly after she passed, leading him through the church and up to the banquet hall on the second floor.

"There's plenty of time," Jasper said as Alice pulled him along, walking as fast as she could without being questioned for her outrageous speed.

But she shook her head. "No, there'll be a _ton_ of people wanting to wish her well. I want to be first."

And she was. When they arrived at the hall, very few people had arrived, other than the honored guest and her few remaining relatives. The quite elderly Ms. Dexter had been settled into a cushioned chair near the front of the hall, ready to receive the line of visitors who would come to congratulate her in just a few moments.

"Would you like me to let you go alone?" Jasper whispered gently as Alice froze on the periphery, waiting, hesitating before she could work up the gumption to go speak to this remnant of her humanity.

Alice shook her head. "No. Come."

With his hand in hers, Jasper followed Alice towards the elderly woman. When they were two feet away, Mary Dexter turned her head to them, smiling gently.

"Hello, dear," she said genially, and held out a kindly spinster's hand. Alice took it, pressing one Brandon palm to another, faltering in her words for just a moment.

"I…I'm Alice Cullen," she announced, her voice a trifle soft and unsure, so very un-Alice-like that Jasper was almost concerned. "This is my husband, Jasper." He nodded at the recognition, and Ms. Dexter smiled again – a smile so reminiscent of his wife's that Jasper grinned in return.

"We wanted to share our congratulations with you," Alice went on.

Ms. Dexter nodded deeply, looking very much like a dowager on her throne. "Aren't you just sweet? And, I must say, that is a lovely dress you're wearing."

Alice beamed, running her hands over the peach chiffon. "Thank you."

"Vintage Chanel, isn't it?"

They all stopped, taken aback. It was a familial trait recognized, and Jasper had to bite back the laughter that sprung up in his throat – and squeeze Alice's hand tightly so she wouldn't scream out with glee.

"Yes, yes, it is," she answered, nodding eagerly.

"I had one just like it long ago." Ms. Dexter sighed, lost to her reminiscing for a moment before returning. "Thank you for your kind words, darling. You have a good time at the gala, won't you?"

Alice nodded, promising she would, then nearly dancing off to the side door just as a throng of well-wishers entered the hall. They made their escape quietly and quickly, and Alice held in her peal of laughter until they were in the car.

"Did you see? Did you _hear_? We're alike, Jasper! We're family!"

And even he had to laugh.


	25. Vivid

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

Prompt: **Vivid**

Pen name: **Mandi1**

Pairing: **Alice & Jasper**

Rating: **T**

* * *

_**vivid**_ (adj.): perceived as bright and distinct; brilliant; having intensely bright colors; presented in clear and striking manner; perceived or felt with the freshness of immediate experiment; active in forming lifelike images.

* * *

"It's time."

Emmett was smiling as he said it, and somehow Jasper managed to return the gesture, though inside he was trembling and maybe feeling a little close to passing out or vomiting. He ran his hands over his jacket, smoothing it down for the thousandth time and wondering if it would be straight enough to suit her immaculate standards.

"You look fine," Edward murmured, checking the mirror to make sure his own suit was tidy. Striped trousers, a light grey vest with a darker coat, and a silken black tie at his throat. He looked entirely too stuffy for his own good, but it was what Alice had wanted. And on this day of days, she could have anything her heart desired. Including him.

The boys exited the small side room and walked to where the coordinator had directed them earlier, the space just before the altar of the church where the priest, the withered Father Lawrence, stood. The crowd was humming with quiet chatter that soon died down as the organist began playing. Jasper stood just next to the aisle with Emmett next to him and Edward just behind. The two had decided who would be best man in an easy fashion; Edward having already been Emmett's (twice) had gallantly bestowed the pleasure upon his brother. Emmett stood proudly at the space of honor with Edward smiling demurely next to him, all of them watching and waiting.

The church was done up in the bright colors of Alice's chosen scheme, spring green and yellow, with swaths of green silk running over the pews and yellow flowers decorating each seat and stand. The theme of green-and-yellow continued as the doors at the end of the aisle opened and Esme emerged. She was dressed in a taffeta gown the exact color as the silk runners, and a small cap sat perched on her head. She clutched a bouquet of mixed yellow flowers in her gloved hands and smiled at each one of her boys before standing at the front of the church.

Rosalie came next, and Jasper could nearly hear Emmett panting at the sight. He wondered for a moment if maybe Rosalie's green dress was just a little too tight for the occasion and place…then corrected himself. If Alice had allowed her to wear it, surely it must be alright. And besides, Emmett would be satisfactorily distracted during the reception and wouldn't cause too much of a fuss. Rosalie, for all her sexual charms, played the modest maid of honor very well, and slid into place beside her mother just as the organ sprung up the march.

The congregation stood. The doors opened one more time. And the crowd of people was so tall that the first thing he really could see was Carlisle, dressed in a suit like Jasper's own, escorting –

An angel.

Alice's dress was a white, calf-length concoction of lace and silk sprigged with glittering beads, and she wore a frothy white veil over her jet hair, a veil that did nothing to conceal those beautiful eyes locked tightly on his. Jasper's throat was suddenly dry, his hands shaking at his sides, and he wished he could concentrate enough to take some calm from those around him, but it was impossible. All things seemed impossible, lacking in meaning and knowledge and importance until he had that woman for his wife. In a moment's time, she had made it to the end of the aisle and Carlisle was handing her to him. He nodded and smiled at the man, thanking him without words for the gift he was about to receive.

The words that came from the priest's mouth were a buzzing noise in the back of his head. Jasper heard nothing, concentrating instead on the angel before him, the two small hands in his, and Emmett had to kick him lightly in the shin so he heard Father Lawrence asking him to say his vows. He had memorized them weeks ago, but how could he possibly get them out now without breaking down?

"I, Jasper Whitlock, do take thee, Alice Cullen, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, from this day forward until death do us part."

He stopped then to smile at her, knowing in the way she clenched his hands she understood just how important every word was to him. He went on after a deep breath, praying he wouldn't give in to the temptation of tears.

"Entreat me not to leave you or to return from following after you. For where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. And where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried."

Alice bit her lip, her eyelashes fluttering down over dewy golden eyes before looking back up at him, a dazzling smile on her face.

Father Lawrence gestured to the girl. "And now, Alice, if you will reply."

"I, Alice Cullen, do take thee, Jasper Whitlock, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, from this day forward until death do us part."

He couldn't help it. She was just so loving, so beautiful, so _his_, that he lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers gently as she went on.

"Entreat me not to leave you or to return from following after you. For where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. And where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried."

The blurring that had happened in the beginning of the ceremony picked up again as her words died off. Time passed, and he had placed a ring on her finger. More time, and she had done the same to him. More words were said, words he could hardly hear echoing in the back of his mind, until one rose a little louder than the others.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Jasper brought his hands up from hers, cupping her face between them and running his thumb over her cheeks. She was his, finally, in every way. He leaned in slowly, stopping just before her mouth to whisper, "I love you," before pressing his lips to hers. Another moment and they were striding down the aisle, dodging falling rice and rose petals, heading to the waiting Ford Victoria outside, all strung up with tin cans and toilet paper.

A gentleman even on his wedding day – or moreso on that day, perhaps – Jasper opened the door for his new bride and helped her in, walking around quickly to slide in beside her. It was like habit to take her hand as he drove…but this time he could feel a large diamond sitting on her finger, a diamond he had given her. But Alice grinned and threw his hand aside, sliding closer to him to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him once more.

"I love you," she murmured between kisses. "I love you more than enough."

He laughed against her lips. "Much more than enough, Mrs. Whitlock. So much more."

* * *

_Fin_


End file.
